


Love in a time of...

by paradoxicallysimplistic



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Basketball, Eventual Happy Ending, Feels, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Model Kise Ryouta, Non-Canon Relationship, Post-Canon, Pro Basketball Player Aomine Daiki, Red String of Fate, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 15:09:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 43,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6860134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paradoxicallysimplistic/pseuds/paradoxicallysimplistic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aomine Daiki and Kise Ryouta met in somewhat ordinary circumstances back in Teiko Middle School, when the blonde was hit on the head with a basketball courtesy of the tanned youth. What they didn't know at the time was it was a fated encounter and their lives were destined to cross one another.</p><p>Now, grown up, their paths converge once more, but with so many things standing in the way, will they be able to have a future?</p><hr/><p>
  <b>I'm taking a <i>The Princess Bride</i> approach to writing this. E.g., "I" being the narrator in the prologue and intermittently throughout (in italics), while the story itself is written in third person in Kise/Aomine's POVs.</b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> "Post-canon" does not include the Jabberwocky or Team Vorpal Blades, etc. Chapters will going to be split into Past/Present/Future arcs based on the theme (each focusing on the time named). For example, the past will relate more to the past they shared. You'll be able to tell by the chapter names.
> 
> Comments, suggestions, and kudos are always welcome! Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so some things are clear...  
> 1: I originally wanted to make this a Romeo & Juliet type of work, but got overwhelmed at how many similar stories there were, so I decided to just add the reincarnation bit in the prologue to weave all those stories together.  
> 2\. The actual storyline starting in the next chapter will be more AoKise than some storyteller ranting about shit.  
> 3\. This is kind of canon-verse, but set after the Winter Cup and assumes the whole Vorpal Blades thing did not happen.

Some claim that love, a mix of chemicals and hormones, ends when one's physical body ceases all functioning: after all to them, it’s merely a completed biochemical and electrophysical reaction. Others say it transcends this boundary and lasts until time immemorial. I could say I'm of the former camp, but the intricacies of human behavior are profound and impossible to completely elucidate or even come close to understanding the biochemical mechanisms behind them. Nor am I of the latter belief; love is not immutable, as one can easily fall in love multiple times, and the linguistic phrases used to describe this elusive state, phrases such as “one true love” or “eternal love,” pale in comparison to the sensations themselves.

No, I would categorize myself in a third camp.

There have been time and time renderings of the same story. One of lovers cruelly forced to part. Of tragedy befallen on them. During war and peace. Ever wonder why there are so many retellings of the same tale over and over again? I'll tell you why.

Long ago, in a time when written word did not exist, when gender didn't matter, when spirits and gods roamed the land, and angels and demons existed, a pair of them fell in love. Now you might ask how or why it happened, and even I'm not too sure, but they fell irrevocably in love. Some said the fallen angel was mesmerized by the beauty of the angel’s wings. Others said the spirit became enamored by the demon’s charm. And despite those differences, their affections were requited. Depending on your beliefs, the story consists of a fallen angel and angel, a demon and spirit, two angels, nymph and mortal, and so on; the truth having been altered throughout time.

But that’s not my main point.

The higher being, some could call God, gods, deities, Gaia, and so on, they served became angry. Furious that their followers had abandoned their devotion to _love_ some lesser being, they cursed the pair to find each other, fall in love, and suffer for it. The lovers’ souls were bound and banished to live the rest of their lives in the mortal realm. In the land of humans.

And so they did find each other.

They loved in ancient Greece in a time of the great philosophers and mythology. Born to two fighting families, their only contact was through the cracks in the walls adjoining the houses. Arranging to meet, the girl anxiously arrived first. At the site was the head of a dead lion, and she fled in fear from the scene, leaving her veil behind. He arrived not long after and in despair, imagining her to have been eaten by the beast from the bloodied veil, killed himself. She eventually returned, only to see his corpse. And so, like him, she joined him in death, their blood staining the mulberries beneath them. Returning to the site, she sees what he has done and stabs herself with his blade. For those versed in Greek mythology, it will be obvious that I am referring to _Pyramus and Thisbe_. But there’s one minor detail they got wrong in the books, their deaths did _not_ persuade the gods to change the mulberries blood red out of pity, but out of dark satisfaction for seeing them dead.

They loved in a time of history when mankind lacked a system of currency. During a time when the pyramids were being built, as a nameless slave and prince. Enraged by his son's foolishness, the Pharaoh commanded the slave to be sent to work on the pyramids, where he died. The prince, unable to escape his fate, was forced to marry and continue his lineage. Not long after, he was poisoned by an enemy spy and entombed in the same pyramid his lover had helped construct.

The loved in a time of the Amazons, when what we now know as Brazil was filled with female tribal warriors. One of them, the lover of the tribe’s leader, fell in love with a younger woman in a different tribe. The leader found out that her lover was two-timing, and ordered her bound and imprisoned while she personally saw to it that her opponent was killed and the corpse thrown into the river. When she was finally free from her imprisonment, she went to their meeting place not knowing what had conspired, but her love never showed, eventually passing away from misery.

The loved in Medieval England, as a traveling knight and the daughter of an Earl, during a time of war. The girl’s husband angered by his daughter’s foolish heart instructed the knight that if he emerged victorious in battle, he would bequeath his daughter to him. In secrecy, however, he married her off to another man, lying that the young knight had passed away. Five years later, he came back successful and a rich man, only to find her already wed. Heartbroken and ashamed, she killed herself by jumping out the window. The knight, furious, went on a rampage, killing the Earl and attempting to murder her husband, died from wounds suffered from men her husband hired, dying before he could reach her side.

The most famous of which was the tale of their love in a time of feuding families in Verona, Italy. We’re all aware of Shakespeare’s _Romeo and Juliet_ , but no, I am referring to the story which served as the inspiration for the Victorian playwright. Like the star-crossed lovers in the play, these two met and eventually died, torn apart by their families and unable to be together. The circumstances of their deaths were, however, somewhat different. The girl was promised to her cousin and they caught wind of the young lovers’ attempt to elope. Enraged that his betrothed was leaving him for another man, he confronted the interloper, causing fatal wounds on both of them. Bleeding to his death, the man somehow found the girl only to die in front of her distraught eyes. The blood trail also led the cousin straight to her and he killed the girl as well, before dying of blood loss himself. Regardless of the veracity of the tale, the curse held strong and prevented them from being together.

Their reincarnations were not landlocked, nor were they able to find one another in death.

During the Jin dynasty long before China was united as one, they were born as a poor scholar and the only daughter of a wealthy merchant. They met while the daughter was disguised a man and taking classes and became best friends. The girl continued to hide her identity from him, and over time she fell secretly in love with her classmate from a different social class. Unfortunately, as a female, she was forced to return home. He accompanied her back home and after paying a visit to her family, came to realize that she was female. They confessed their affections and planned on marrying, and I think I’m starting to sound like a broken record by now, but we know that’s not going to happen. When she mentioned it to her parents, they in turn informed her that they had already arranged a marriage partner for her. News of her impending wedding reaches her love and heartbroken, he passes away from illness. On the fateful day, she spied his grave and jumped out. And once more they found love in a time of death, the two souls supposedly flying away as two butterflies, thus coining the popular _Butterfly Lovers_ tale in China. But we all know that those two butterflies did not find love in death. No, one was eaten by a bird and the other by a frog, separating them once more.

They also found each other in the Middle East as the scions of different clans. This time it wasn’t the clans nor was it their peoples who separated them. For once, those groups were actually supportive. No, there was another man who was jealous of them. After a series of narrow escapes, his conspiracy eventually got the better of the man, killing him. Devastated, his lover went to his grave and mourned his death to the grave, literally; as in she dies of grief next to his grave. This is where her people came in, as they killed the man for vengeance, but their actions were ironically what separated them. His blood prevented the lovers, who were buried next to each other, from being together in death once more. I am, of course, referring to the Kurdish tale of _Mem and Zin_ , in which love existed in a time of blood, in some cruel, twisted sense; least they were buried next to each other this time.

This pattern repeated itself many more times throughout the ages; too many for anyone to keep track. And I’m only aware of a few of them.

Gender wasn't a barrier for their affections, but society was. They were forced apart for being two men, two women, from being born in different social classes, from their families being on different sides of a war, and of course from jealousy of an unrequited third person.

There are even poems, such as _Annabel Lee_ by Poe, detailing the love and the tragic loss. Plays like _Romeo and Juliet_ were written, songs like the _Butterfly Lovers_ composed, and folklore like _Mem and Zin_ or _Pyramus and Thisbe_ were spun around them, passing through the years and various cultures.

Of love and longing.

Of unfulfilled dreams and wishes.

Of pain in losing one’s other half.

Of death and tragic suicide.

But I wouldn't be telling you this if it were a tragedy. That would be much too cruel.

No, no one, not even the higher being that cursed them, realized that humans would become less devout as the centuries rolled around. As belief and faith were central to their powers, the prevalence of agnosticism and atheism led to divine powers waning and as a consequence, the curse weakened.

And once more they found each other.

This time in 21st century Japan on a basketball court.

Like two magnets drawn to each other, it was inevitable. They would hurt, they would suffer, and they would love. The red string of fate tying them together could never be broken. The clock had begun ticking the moment they met, perhaps even before that. Some things, like their meeting, might have preordained, but in that instance, both their paths in life shifted ever so subtly.

The moment he spied on that golden blonde outside the gym, Aomine Daiki hadn’t known it then, but his life would never be the same.

The instance Kise Ryouta caught sight of the tanned male shooting hoops, he was in awe and the trajectory of his life veered.

They just didn’t know it yet.


	2. Memories of the past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daiki reminiscences about his time back in Teiko, specifically about a certain golden-eyed blonde.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to cultural differences in American and Japanese names, I'm going to be switching them depending on the situation and POV. E.g., "Ryouta" is Kise's first name, which is what most would call him in the States, whereas in Japan, it is polite to address him by Kise. 
> 
> In line with all those other named tales in the prologue, there will be a little angst, but as I mentioned there _"But I wouldn't be telling you this if it were a tragedy. That would be much too cruel."_.

_I know you’ve had enough of me talking, but before I begin, I would emphasize that the curse was_ not _broken yet, only weakened. This meant that although they might have met once again, their fate was still destined to end in tragedy. The powers long forgotten had not forgotten either, continuing to take immense satisfaction at seeing the tortured look of those lovers throughout the ages._

_But only time would tell whether things would change for the two of them…_

_I’ll apologize once more in advance, but there are times when I’ll interrupt. Now calm down, I’m getting to the actual tale…_

 

* * *

 

**“ _If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other_.” ― Mother Teresa**

 

Flipping through the channels, he threw the remote onto the bed. The indistinguishable sounds of the television droned through the room like a broken record. Bright streaks of color from the changing scenes on the giant screen illuminated the dark room cast shadows around the otherwise dark room, highlighting some messily strewn clothes and shoes. But none of what was shown registered. It was just a bunch of indistinguishable lights and sounds. Blue eyes bored aimlessly above him watching the flickering shapes reflected on the ceiling. The basketball player wasn’t an iota tired as he heaved a frustrated sigh.

The monotony of life was starting to get to the tanned male. The last time he had felt so disconnected from everything and everyone was back in high school. There wasn’t anything interesting on the television, no one he wanted to talk to or see, and it was too late to toss some hoops. Nor was he technically allowed to since he was benched for spraining his ankle two weeks ago. Although it had healed sufficiently according to his account, they insisted that the doctor needed to take a look, leaving him bored as hell. Aside from sleeping, there wasn’t much he could do. The only other thing he could do was think and anyone who knew Aomine Daiki would say that thinking was the furthest from his talents.

Shutting his eyes, Daiki immersed himself in memories of the past when things were simple and life made sense. Thinking back to his Teiko middle school years, life consisted of basketball and more basketball. When he was bored of playing ball, there was Satsuki and Tetsu to hang out with. Outside of the three of them and basketball, he didn’t remember or care about anything else.

But thinking about his past inevitably led him to think about one person Daiki hadn’t seen in over five years. The same person who turned his life on its head and continued to haunt his dreams. The basketball player had suffered more than a few sleepless nights as a result. A certain pretty boy that was everywhere in Japan. You could not go more than a few blocks without encountering an image of Kise Ryouta.

Although they had drifted apart after Teiko, the reminders of Kise remained everywhere; not that he paid any attention to the golden boy. Kise’s face was on billboards, advertisements, television, and even sport magazines, which only made it worse. Even playing basketball sometimes reminded him of the blonde. It _had_ been how they met after all.

He had been shooting hoops and one of them had bounced off and outside. There had been the sound of someone shouting “ow” and Daiki had reluctantly chased after it. Sometimes he wondered if it might have been better if that ball hadn’t bounced out and hit Kise. The image of a teenage blonde rubbing his head and holding the basketball in the next when he ran out to apologize was a scene he could never forget. There was nothing unique or special about it; only that it was his first time hitting someone on the head with a basketball. Suffice it to say, the truth was many times Daiki _wanted_ to forget about the blonde, but was simply unable to.

The moment he met Kise was the same moment everything changed. Saying his life went to hell in a handbasket due to a golden-haired model with matching bright eyes would be an apt description.

It had begun innocently enough. There had been no earth-wrenching change or mind-blowing experience. Daiki had not woken up in a burning house or dreaming of blonde hair. At first he’d been annoyed with the sight of a self-assured new pretty face trying to compete against him in basketball. The only one that could beat him was himself, after all. And so of course the younger him was not surprised when Kise lost each and every time. Instead of moping and being envious of his skill, the blonde only challenged him for more; almost trailing after him like a whining, but optimistic puppy at times.

Daiki didn’t understand how anyone could be so damn bright and sunny; it was fucking annoying. Panting after him with looks of awe and adoration that was too feminine for a middle school male. And that voice calling him ‘Aominecchi’ in that incessant whine grated on his ears each time he heard it. Back then he didn’t understand why so many people, girls especially, liked Kise. To this day, he still didn’t get it – much. Sure the guy had a pretty face, but the pretty boy’s personality sucked.

Back in those days, Kise constantly asked him one-on-ones and lost each time, never knowing when to give up. Even after lying on the ground gasping for air, he’d still persistently ask for more, each time saying he’d win. Daiki didn’t know where that blinding optimism and persistence came from. Kise even tried to emulate his style, asking for tips at times. That was amusing. Seeing the model try something and whine when he couldn’t get it right. However, the pretty face did have _some_ skill and at one point admittedly, Daiki had imagined that Kise would prove a sufficient challenge and become a worthy opponent. But that didn’t out to be true either.

However, somewhere along the line he began paying an inordinate amount of attention to the blonde, impatiently waiting for the pretty boy to ask him for another one-on-one game. Maybe it was because he grew accustomed to Kise haranguing him each time, but Daiki somewhat looked forward to their games; even if he won every time. They were teammates that understood each other the best; least that was what he had believed all those years ago.

Naturally, nothing was ever that simple.

He still remembered the day things went horribly wrong. It was the same day Kise had given him a magazine with some of his photo shoots in it. The blonde had been so happy at being on the front page that he gave one to everyone on the team. Daiki didn’t give a damn about some stupid photo shoots, but in retrospect, he should have. Aimlessly flipping through that magazine since it was on hand was the catalyst which destroyed everything. His life which used to be simple and coherent changed into being in the backseat in a car speeding on the opposite side of a one-way lane.

In other words, it became a motherfucking disaster. A car crash in the works.

That was the day he had dreamed of Kise Ryouta and woke up with morning wood that wouldn’t go away until he took a long cold shower. And it wasn’t because of the shower that it went away, it was because he had masturbated to memory of the pretty boy’s face writhing in pleasure.

Yeah, that was the day his simple basketball-focused life got sucked into the chaotic vortex that was Kise Ryouta, and the mind of a teenaged version of him didn’t know how or why it happened.

As a teenager, Daiki had always had a certain fondness for large-breasted females; Horikita Mai being at the top of the list. He liked heterosexual porn and jacked off to it as well. But after that day, none of it had as much draw as the face of one golden-haired teen. They still aroused him sure, but it was nowhere near as satisfying to jack off to those females, nor did it stop his imagination from veering to a particular male with golden hair and eyes.

Weirded out by the whole thing, he grew defensive and harsh towards the pretty boy. Daiki used all his energies to forget about and treat Kise merely as a teammate, while at the same time making it blatant that he was only interested in said well-endowed females, flaunting images of his idol openly. Not that it worked in the least. He definitely alienated Kise and persuaded those around him, but inside, the urges never fully faded. The blonde didn’t really seem to get the message, continuing to challenge him one-on-ones and act as usual.

Just seeing Kise Ryouta made him remember that one night that never happened. Sometimes Daiki wasn’t sure if it was just a dream, they were so vivid and realistic. He definitely knew the smell of the blonde’s sweat and what he looked like naked, they did use the same change room and showers after all, but it was more than that. Daiki could almost imagine the taste of those lips against his and there was no way he had ever kissed the blonde. Visions of limbs entangled and being intimately connected haunted his nights, as though they had slept together in the past, but Daiki was more than a hundred percent certain that he had never slept with Kise.

Not knowing what to do, he forcefully devoted himself tirelessly to basketball, aiming to be better than he was. Thinking of something that was not right frightened and aroused him, and it was the latter that scared him most of all. The teenager hadn’t known what to do, drowning deeper and deeper into the mire. All Daiki knew was how to act defensively, highlighting the differences between himself and the blonde. Aside from basketball, he focused his energies towards his idolization of Horikita Mai and other well-endowed models that were female and definitely _not_ Kise. He began refusing the one-on-one matches, citing that the model would never be a true challenge to him and Daiki suppressed the small pangs of guilt at the flashes of hurt, which were quickly masked by a smile, directed his way when he refused. Thus when the opportunity to show his true power and the gap that existed between himself and Kise, he took it, blasting through and vastly outstripping any middle school record. This was the second reckoning in their relationship that had begun fracturing since that night.

Daiki had been relieved when they graduated and moved to different schools, thinking that the strange attraction he had to Kise would stop with distance. Initially it had, and the basketball player was able to return to some semblance of normality. But that might have been because his life was just spiraled out of control and nothing interested him much. Back then even basketball began losing its allure; there was no Kise to compete again and no one even came close to his skill.

But naturally, the day that his team competed against Kaijo’s in the Winter Cup was the day all his efforts were blown away. His eyes immediately zoomed in on Kise Ryouta for the first time in several months and it had taken everything to tear his eyes away. The blonde had grown taller and his face more masculine, and in doing so, more irresistible.

The game they played was exhilarating, reminding him of all the one-on-ones they had. But it was nowhere as exciting as those games they played before where it was just Kise and him on the court. If he had regrets, this was a minor one. Maybe this was the same effect that drew others to the popular model; Daiki wasn’t sure, but since that game, Kise was never far from his mind. Still, he wasn’t sure about his feelings towards Kise Ryouta back then.

There were those strange pangs of pain when he saw Kaijo’s captain – Kasama-something – help Kise up from the floor of the court after their match. He hadn’t wanted to push the blonde to his limits, making an old injury flare up, but it was inevitable. The admiration and awe that used to be there had been replaced with something unidentifiable. Although a small voice whispered that it was his fault, he didn’t care. Some part of Daiki wanted to prove he _was_ better than Kise, that the blonde was mistaken in his attempts to defeat him. It might have been childish, but the teenaged Daiki hadn’t known what to do. Pushing Kise away hadn’t worked and he felt betrayed that the blonde now looked up to his Kaijo teammates and captain for support. That was supposed to be his spot. Didn’t the blonde always say they knew each other best? Kise was his teammate and friend… _Or had been_ , a small voice inside nagged.

Recalling how Haizaki purposely targeted Kise’s injured side he couldn’t help the surge of anger that rose up. Maybe it was driven from guilt in pushing his former teammate too hard the previous game, but no one deserved to be treated like that. It was sacrilege not only to basketball, but more importantly to Kise. The protective instinct came out of nowhere and Daiki felt relieved when he to plant a facer on the bastard. He would have hit the smarmy asshole more if it weren’t for other people interfering. No one was allowed to treat the blonde like that.

That incident had helped bridge a little bit of the chasm between them, but it was a little too late perhaps. During the months they had not seen each other, Kise had changed. He no longer resembled the naïve pretty boy always chasing after Daiki in admiration. What little fragments of friendship they regained was always overshadowed by the time spent apart. The wall between them at the time was insurmountable and although they sometimes texted or had a game once in a while, separation was inevitable. They had their own lives. After finishing high school, it only became further strained.

They entered different universities in different cities, making it extremely difficult to meet up. He only found out several months after the fact, when the pretty boy had not shown up to any intercollegiate games that Kise quit basketball to focus his modeling career. Maybe that and the distance was the final blow to whatever semblance of a friendship they had. After a few years Daiki managed to get scouted into his dream job and play for the NBA, all he knew about Kise were infrequent third-hand accounts from Satsuki.

However, compared to all the other memories with his former Teiko teammates, only those spent with the blonde remained as vibrant as ever. The rest faded with time. Daiki didn’t think about Kise every waking moment, nor was his life spent moping after his former teammate. But for some inexplicable reason, over the years he could never forget. And had never forgotten. He still remembered the strange little details about the golden boy, such as the loop in his ear or the twinkle in those eyes which delineated the real from fake smiles Kise used. The reminders of the boy, now man, remained with him. Sometimes it was because Satsuki would update him on how everyone was doing. Other times it was because something triggered his memory. And there were times like this when his mind would drift off and Daiki would find himself remembering a time he thought was better forgotten.

He had dated women. Blonde, brunette, dark-haired beauties all threw themselves at the rising basketball star. But none of them held much over him, compared to the draw of those memories. The first few months in the States, Daiki had indulged in his popularity, drinking, fucking, and partying, but the allure faded quickly. None of them had the same charm as the memory of Kise’s laugh. They were attractive, but somehow they paled in comparison to the blonde’s shining face. A face he hadn’t seen forever. And the breasts, which were larger than those in Japan, didn’t even make a dent compared to the lean, muscled body of his former teammate. Sometimes in the middle of doing it, instead of whatever bimbo was in front of him at the moment, he imagined it was Kise’s voice calling his name, Kise’s arms around him, Kise’s body he was embracing.

Normally he might have talked to Satsuki about it, but she would probably blow the whole issue out of proportion and probably leak it to the man in question. It had taken him months to come to accept the fact that his sexuality might be something altogether different from what he knew.

Never one to skirt around the issue, he figured the best way to deal with it was to confront the question head-on. It had taken some time for Daiki to gain the resolution to, but he wanted to know if it was because there was something unique about Kise or because he was gay. Males had never interested him before and the few times he experimented with gay porn, it left him feeling disgusted. He had even drudged up enough courage to go to a gay bar, but that was also useless. Unless it was the thought of sex with Kise; that felt him feeling funny and hard.

“…and onto entertainment news. Japanese supermodel and idol Ryouta Kise who will be in New York…” Daiki’s head immediately swiveled, latching onto the photo of Kise on the television.

His heart was pounding, fearful that he at misheard. But he hadn’t. Below that image were those fateful words: Ryouta Kise. It felt so strange to hear the English inflection and pronunciation of Kise’s name, but it was the same person. Social media and the outside world was never Daiki’s interest, only basketball, so it wasn’t surprising that he had no clue what Kise was doing or how the model had changed.

To say the years had been kind to the blonde was an understatement.

If Daiki thought he was attractive back in high school, the image of a mid-twenties Kise on the television was stunning. There was nothing to capture the air of masculine, yet slightly androgynous beauty that his former teammate was imparted with. Kise’s face had never and would never be considered the epitome of masculinity, there was just something genderless, almost effeminate about it. But it wasn’t feminine either, it was like one of those statues that were symmetrically perfect and gender-neutral. The lithe body with limber and long arms and legs, even dressed, was different from the Kise he knew. His last memories of the blonde were corded muscles and calloused hands from all those years playing basketball as they raced across one of the street courts.

He wasn’t really listening attentively, but somehow it resonated inside his mind that Kise was coming to New York. Despite the large divide between them and the many years that had passed, he had a yearning to see the blonde in the flesh once more. It might have been simple nostalgia and the thought of reuniting with a familiar face, but Daiki looked forward to seeing Kise. Perhaps maybe even a one-on-one game to commemorate old times. He knew that the blonde had like the NBA almost as much as he did and it would be a simple matter to wrangle some tickets for an upcoming game. He wondered how Kise would match up to him now. The blonde had never beaten him before, but Kise _had_ come close.

The basketball player had never been in love, but there was a pounding in his chest as he thought about the possibility of seeing his friend again. But then reality hit him. In a way it seemed to be doing recently.

Slumping back against the pillows, Daiki recalled how fucking unlikely it was. There were over a million people who lived on this island and what were the chances of bumping into one specific pretty face from the past? Pretty damn slim if you asked him.

Then there was the question of whether Kise even wanted to see him again. After his defeat by Seiren all those years ago Daiki had become slightly aware, no thanks to Satsuki, that he had hurt all of them – Tetsu, Satsuki, and Kise most of all – all those years back. Although Tetsu and Satsuki had forgiven him and they had patched up their friendship, it was hard to say with the blonde. He knew that Kise could easily put up a façade, like the one he used when pretending not to be hurt by Daiki’s comments, and pretend to be friends. But that wasn’t what he wanted. Part of him wanted to apologize, but Daiki wasn’t sure if that was sufficient, nor was he sure _why_ he felt the need to see the blonde.

He wasn’t even sure _what_ he wanted with Kise as he drifted off to sleep, the television still playing, dreaming of a certain blonde.

 

* * *

 

_At the same time and city, just slightly elsewhere…_

Walking out of John F Kennedy airport with his New York agent, Kise Ryouta inhaled the city air. It wasn’t that pleasant, but it was better than being cooped up in a plane right across half the world. There were no stars in the sky, being covered by the bright city lights. In front of him, his agent and driver droned on about the latest sports games.

Although English wasn’t his native language, the model had little difficulty adjusting. Part of his work required a level of fluency with other languages and it was sometimes useful as a hidden weapon of sorts. Just because he was from Japan and spoke in an accent didn’t mean he couldn’t understand what was going around him.

As he was about to close his eyes and get some shut eye, he heard a name he hadn’t heard in a long time: Aomine Daiki.

Ryouta knew his former teammate was scouted and played for the NBA. What he hadn’t known was that within a day’s time, he would be meeting with the man once more.

The same man who, in a sense, had ruined him.


	3. Reminiscing the past

**_"The most painful thing is losing yourself in the process of loving someone too much, and forgetting that you are special too.” ―Ernest Hemingway_ **

 

Masking the fatigue from travelling, he pasted his work smile and begun the tedious job of mingling. In the last few years, his career as a model had more than just taken off. His name was known throughout Japan. Aside from modeling, his fame had grown and he had become somewhat of an idol. Work had spread out and now included a few music videos and solos, the odd part in a movie, and participation in those talk shows. There were even rumors of starting his own clothing line.

Contrary to all the news and gossip, instead of enjoying everything, Ryouta felt overwhelmed by the whole affair. The glitz and glamour had long worn off and not even the money was able to make up for how tiring he felt it.

As a concession, his agent and manager had suggested going on an international tour as a breather and opportunity to grow his influence outside of Asia. In total, the plan was to spend a month in Europe for Fashion Week and some concerts before planting roots in the States for the better part of a year. There, they had planned for him to attend a variety of fundraisers and galas as well as do a few concerts and the odd modeling gig. The plan had taken a year in the making and during that time, Ryouta was forced to learn English.

He already the basics from school, but the grammar and ‘r’ and ‘l’ sounds took forever to learn. The worst part was the terminology. There were so many words – casual and formal – that had the same meaning. And the way they addressed almost everyone by their first name was disconcerting. But he had to grin and bear it; it was part of his job after all.

Politely excusing himself from conversation, he grabbed a flute of champagne and walked over to one of the windows to grab a breather. Sipping the bubbly, he grimaced at how it was warm. Briefly, he debated between giving it to a nearby server or to finish it off, all the while scanning the vicinity for a certain tanned male.

His agent, Matsuo, had chosen this venue since they knew his history in basketball. The Knicks were known to attend and they wanted to expand his name to demographics beyond the typical groups. If it didn’t work, there were so many others that it didn’t really matter. To be honest, each time he came to another of these things, his interest in the whole entertainment industry waned. Matsuo’s enthusiasm only exacerbated it.

Kise had originally gotten into modeling since it was great pay. Who didn’t want to be famous when they were younger? It came naturally to him, the smiles, the posing, even pretending to be affable, when he wasn’t feeling it. He had a great body and everyone knew it, so when they asked him to go full-time, he accepted. As much as he was interested in basketball, he knew there were others, namely Kagami Taiga and Aomine Daiki, who he would never be able to compete against. They were like the sun, bright and shining, while he was simply a star somewhere in the background. Those were the real talents, the pros, one that he had thought he could become when he was younger. But after the accident, he could never push himself to the same extent, nor was he ever able to gain enough stamina to be on the court long enough. Being in the entertainment world, despite all the false smiles and backstabbing involved, was almost easier than playing basketball with doubt at the bottom of his stomach.

However, the dazzle of stardom was wearing thin on him. He couldn’t go anywhere in Japan without being mobbed for his signature or a handshake. Anyone he was seen with was immediately blogged about and flooded the World Wide Web within a matter of seconds. Everything from his personal life to friends was picked apart under a magnifying glass with a pair of tweezers. It had been at least half a year since Ryouta had been able to go a day meeting someone who didn’t ceaselessly fawn over him. He wasn’t too sure of the last time he had been something other than Kise Ryouta the model, the idol, the face on television.

Those who weren’t enamored with him were either envious, jealous, or wanted to get in his pants. Kise lost count of the number of times he had heard unfavorable rumors against him or had women claim to be his girlfriend. Both men and women tried to cozy up to him. The whole dating scene left a nasty taste in his mouth.

Catching sight of a familiar dark head, he smiled inwardly as he watched the male hide his scowl at the people around him. Kise felt a pang of sympathy he felt for his former teammate’s plight but stayed back and watched as another person walked up to the basketball star.

Kise still remembered the first time he saw Aomine in action. His first impression of at fault for hitting him in the head with a ball was unfavorable. The tanned male’s ignorance of his identity also made him want to fume. Who was the dark-haired tanned ganguro that made a complete fool out of him?

However, the moment he went to follow and see who exactly the arrogant teen was, his opinion did a complete one-eighty. The vivid picture of Aomine making a shot that seemed nigh impossible in his signature freeform style was burned in his mind. It was like his dull, monotonous life was suddenly dyed in vibrant blue and orange.

Kise had tried many other clubs at school and his copying ability made a mockery of everything he faced on the field or in a court. All in all, he was fairly successful at whatever he had put his mind to. He could watch a game or two, play for a week or two and top the seniors on a team. His looks naturally got him places, but there was no fun in something that was trivially easy for him.

Except when it came to Aomine Daiki.

As reflected by his name, the youth was like an untouchable star, burning brightly by himself and grabbing the attention of all those watching. On the court, it was impossible to outshine Aomine as he streaked across the gym floor. The feats he pulled seemingly out of thin air defied reality and the laws of physics. The teen had been literally in a court of his own, matchless and superior to everyone else.

Even with his copying abilities, it was impossible for him to surpass Aomine. Grimly, Kise remembered how optimistic he had been at first, foolishly challenging his teammate for one-on-one games, only to be solidly beaten. He had been young and stupid, thinking that he might win through mere perseverance. That he would be like a phoenix and rise from the ashes of his past failures. That had never happened, but he had been persistent.

Despite knowing Aomine for such a short time, Ryouta felt as though they were the best of friends. On the court, he was the one at Teiko closest to Aomine in ability and like an idiot he truly bought into that thinking. Of course, Aomine had Kuroko and Momoi, but Kise had believed that he was the one that knew him the best. They hung out at each other’s houses once in a while, played basketball (mainly due to his urging), and ate lunch together sometimes. He knew that Aomine read magazines, so he had tried to give his friends copies of the ones he had been featured in, thinking it would make them closer. The tanned youth had merely scoffed and asked for Horikita Mai, but Ryouta still hung onto that thin strand of hope.

It was all for naught. What was once youthful admiration soon changed. The chasm began to grow as Aomine’s skill on the court grew faster than his could keep up with. The one-on-one games they had becoming less challenging for his former teammate as they continued to play. Ryouta felt left behind in the shadows.

Basketball was the thing that had brought them together and it basketball was the same thing that had torn them apart, revealing the large gulf between them.

It all came to a head during their middle school finals when he truly realized how out of depth he was compared to Aomine Daiki. Hearing Aomine say that ‘the only one who could defeat him was himself’ was the final nail in the coffin. Ryouta had always thought that his teammate thought something of him, but apparently it was all a misguided youth’s admiration. He gradually stopped asking for one-on-ones and Aomine stopped agreeing to play him on the court, both of them knowing the futility of his attempts. After graduation, without basketball holding them together, it wasn’t difficult for them to drift apart.

He felt hurt. Betrayed that Aomine did not seem as anything but a pretty face and unable to defeat him. Angry, Ryouta poured all his energy into being better, stronger, and faster than his former teammate after joining Kaijo. Instead of a friend, Aomine was his rival, his arch nemesis. Despite all the male’s claims, he _would_ be the one to defeat Aomine Daiki.

They met again once more on the court as different as could be. Him in white, Aomine in black. Opponents.

Instead of winning, they instead lost. It wasn’t just once, but multiple times. He had even come so close once to winning. They were tied, but somehow Aomine had slipped through and scored at the last moment. Each crushing defeat left a bitter taste in his mouth. The snarky nonchalant attitude Aomine took made him feel worthless. Insignificant. Like dust that was easily swept away and forgotten.

Ryouta _hated_ Aomine for it. For toying with him like that. Treating him like a friend, and then turning his back once he deemed fit. But it was more complicated than that. His feelings for Aomine were mixed. The admiration, respect, awe for the man’s skills was still there. However, darker, more insidious feelings lurked just below the surface.

Ryouta hated the man for barging into his life and turning it upside down. Before Aomine, he was the golden boy, touted and better than everyone else. At the top of the game. Sure, he might not be able to compete and win at all the Olympic sports, but those who knew him, knew him for being the best. With Aomine however, that was not the case. He was forced to admit that there were those on top of him that he would never be able to defeat. That in spite of all the fame and admirers circling him, he could never be at the top. And Ryouta hated feeling like that. Powerless. Weak.

Deep inside, however, he knew it wasn’t Aomine’s fault. It was no one’s fault, except one of his own making. He could not blame the man for his lack of skills, and though his former teammate’s blasé attitude did frustrate him, it taught him the bittersweet life lesson that there would always be someone better than him.

Like how Seirin, not Kaijo, had been the ones to defeat Touou. Frankly, he was surprised with Kuroko and Kagami beat Touou. As delighted as he was that Aomine had been dethroned, Ryouta despaired at how pathetic and useless he was for losing. How it upset him even more than after all those months of sweat and tears, he was not the one to finally lord one over Aomine. The Kuroko and Kagami duo was. He loved Kuroko as a friend, but Kise was also mildly jealous that not only did Aomine consider Kuroko his best friend from Teiko, but it was the man’s former _shadow_ that defeated him.

Perhaps that was why he had quit basketball once high school ended. Between him internalizing his faults, lack of stamina, and injury, Ryouta knew he couldn’t, or rather wouldn’t, be able to win those with God’s naturally given gifts. People like Kagami or Aomine. It had been a hard choice to leave behind basketball, which he loved, behind, but there were too many painful memories attached to it. No one was at fault, but being around those destined on the court was painful. Although modeling was a cutthroat environment, it was much easier than dealing with the repeated crushing blows of defeat. It had taken him some time to accept the loss at the hands of the man in question, and Ryouta had come to accept their differences. It was not their fault, but a testament to them being different.

There were, however, still things that to this day he really didn’t understand. On top of that list was Aomine getting angry on his behalf and giving a nice shiner to Haizaki after _that_ match. The last few times he had met with Aomine, their interactions had ended up with him getting the short end of the stick, so Ryouta never dreamed that his former teammate would stand up for him. It was like the year or two between them never happened at all. As though they were the best of friends once more. Of course that wasn’t true, but they had reconnected after both Aomine’s defeat by Seirin and the Haizaki incident. They even had a few friendly matches and Ryouta was again in awe at how skillful Aomine was. Kagami was equally impressive, but he really only had eyes for the dark streak moving across the court like a comet. At the same time, it made him depressed that he would never be able to win Aomine. It was why he tried to avoid remembering the past as much as possible.

He missed all his friends from Teiko, well maybe not Seijuurou since that man was scary, but Ryouta missed the rest of them. The only problem was that would inadvertently bring up Aomine, which he didn’t want to think about. The tanned male always had a strange way of burrowing into his mind and life, despite all intentions.

Surreptitiously glancing at his former teammate, Ryouta wondered what Aomine thought of him now. He had once idolized the man, even hated him, but not once had he never forgotten him.

His former teammate was probably the densest person he knew, so he doubted Aomine was aware of his more than slight infatuation he once held. There were the occasional pangs of hurt when Aomine dismissed his modeling career or ignored him, and he tried to forget about them. It was Aomine after all, and the man only really had two things on his mind at any given point in time: boobs and basketball. Ryouta didn’t have the first, so he tried focusing on the second. Back in Teiko all his energies were focused on having Aomine acknowledge him, befriending him, and being on par with his teammate. Even Momoi had teased him on more than one occasion for crushing on her childhood friend, but Ryouta had not been as aware of his sexuality back then.

Knowing what he did now, his pulsed quickened just a fraction as he spied on his former teammate.

He had always found Aomine attractive in a weird sort of way, eyeing the lithe, easy posture as the tanned male leaned against the wall, nursing his drink. Many in the entertainment industry were secretly bisexual or at least had slept with those of the same sex before, so being gay didn’t bother him. Ryouta had never really had a type and gender didn’t matter. Being surrounded by beautiful and handsome people all the time made it easy to pick a casual partner whenever he wanted to, which had been rarely, but none of them had held his attention for long. Discreetly eyeing his former teammate, he wondered how much had changed after all those times he had seen Aomine shirtless those many years ago in the Teiko change rooms.  Aomine had always had a virile magnetism on the court, but only seeing his former teammate as a fully-grown male did Ryouta realize how eye catching he was.

It also brought back memories he had long forgotten. Trying to clear his mind of the roller coaster he had gone through when dealing with Aomine Daiki, Ryouta failed. In the past few years, even though they had not talked or met up, Ryouta still felt strangely compelled to follow Aomine’s progress. In what little spare time he had, he would find himself covertly asking Momoi for any news on Aomine or scanning the news. He never did it for Kagami, but that might have been because he still communicated with the redhead on occasion.

What surprised him were how few scandals there were about Aomine and his busty lady friends. The few that sometimes circulated the web were from five or so odd years ago when Aomine first came to the states, and Ryouta found it strange. There were so many more opportunities for a rising basketball star to find a girlfriend or one-night stand. Knowing the gossip mill the way he did, Aomine might have been threatened by his manager or coach to clean up his act, but aside from rumors, there was nary a whisper about any indiscretions.

Weirder yet were his reactions towards the whole thing. When he had first read about Aomine’s careless affairs, Ryouta felt like someone had just pulled the rug from under him for some weird reason. They weren’t even friends, so he had no idea where those feelings were coming from. He had known about Aomine’s infatuation with Horikita Mai for almost as long as he had known about the man, so he reasoned it shouldn’t and didn’t bother him if his former teammate had a lover somewhere.

Even if he wanted a shot, which he didn’t, there was no chance for them. Aomine was straight and he was well… bi? Pansexual? Ryouta did not care for labels, especially since none of them would matter. They were simply friends that had not seen each other for a long time.

Seeing his former teammate slip out a side door, Ryouta followed behind, climbing the stairs as quietly as possible. Quietly, he opened the door, not wanting to disturb anyone. The evening breeze blew on his face and he shivered a bit from the drop in temperature as he realized he was on top of the buildling. He didn’t know whether to be surprised or laugh as he found Aomine lounging on the side of the rooftop by himself. They probably weren’t even allowed up here, but it was so typical of the man.

After a moment of hesitation about what to call his former teammate, rival, and friend, Ryouta made up his mind. Changing how he addressed the male would not change anything between them and it would be weird to change his habits now. Even after all those years, grievances, and pain he had gone through, Ryouta still strangely felt connected to Aomine in some way he didn’t feel with others. Maybe it was an illusion, but the strange coincidence of meeting his old teammate once more sat oddly right with him.

“Aominicchi.”

There was a stunned silence as the man turned around to face him. The zooming of cars on the street could be heard as they looked at each other, studying a face that neither of them had seen in over five years. Those piercing blue eyes, bright even in the florescent glow of building lights looked back at him. Aomine had aged well in those last few years. His face losing the rest of his youthful appearance. It was angular, lean, completely masculine. Confused was etched all over that tanned visage.

“Kise?”


	4. Faces from the past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes about their conversation. Since they're speaking in Japanese, I tried translating the actual Japanese words into English. E.g., For Kise’s greeting, I was going for a translation of the more traditional Japanese greeting: 久しぶり, お元気ですか? which is why some of that was not something you'd normally encounter in English. Also, the game Kise’s thinking about is Jenga. I didn’t know if they actually called it that in Japan, so I left it unnamed.

_**For you see, each day I love you more** _  
_**Today more than yesterday and less than tomorrow.** _  
_**~Rosemonde Gerard** _

 

“Aominicchi.”

The brisk evening breeze blew through him. Even though it was the beginning of March, the city was currently experiencing a mild heat wave; otherwise it might have been below zero. He had been enjoying the solitude away from the shitty party when the voice he hadn’t heard in years cut in. More specifically, it had taken a moment for Daiki to register that someone was speaking in his native tongue with an Osaka accent and calling him by something he had not heard in ages.

He had never heard Kise’s voice that mature. The last time he had heard that nickname was before university started. Before they had drifted apart. Others from Teiko knew of that habit Kise had with nicknaming his friends, but the pretty boy was the only one in the world who called him ‘Aomine.’ Daiki could still remember the irritation when the model had cried out that blasted nickname for the first time in that prepubescent high-pitched squeal in praise of his basketball skills.

Turning around in surprise, he stared at a pair of amber eyes framed by golden locks. Daiki blinked, still not completely believing his eyes. It had only been two days ago when he had watched the news of Kise coming to the States. He hadn’t really believed the news that Kise was coming to New York. It wasn’t unusual for a model to travel, but the harder part to wrap his mind around was that on a tiny island averaging more than a few million people during the day, he had actually met up with his former teammate. It was completely unexpected.

Why would Kise even come to the stupid charity fundraiser? He was only there since his coach had threatened to bench him if the Knicks star wasn’t present. Daiki didn’t really care about what other’s said about him and his play. All he cared about was playing basketball against those that were as good as or better than him. He loved the thrill of the game. The exhilaration as he dashed around the court, weaving past the defense, and making a successful shoot.

It still didn’t explain why the pretty boy model from his middle school days was here. When Daiki first moved to play in the NBA, he recalled how the team’s manager and PR members forced him to comply with American standards since he was Japanese. It was a pain in the ass, not that he really cared much about the negative stigma. They labeled him an upstart, an Asian that was in over his head and wouldn’t be able to play in the big leagues where most players were over seven feet. He was barely over six foot seven and easily the shortest member around. But he showed them why he was called the ace of the Generation of Miracles. Unfortunately that only garnered more press, both good and bad. Newscasters and bloggers were divided in their opinions at first. Many were in awe of his skills and suggested that he might be the first Asian MVP, not that he had happened yet. Most of the bad press had died down over time, but Daiki still had the odd racist bigotry hurled at him, especially when he failed to stand up to expectations.

Perhaps it was the same for Kise. As much as the States were a free thinking nation, they liked to bundle people up by race here and put stupid stereotypes on them.

“Kise?”

The word came out of his mouth before he could even stop himself. It had been a long time since he had heard or said Kise’s name, yet he had no difficulty pronouncing the name that was both so familiar and unknown to him.

“It’s been a long time. How are you doing?”

Daiki wasn’t sure how to respond. Even in the dim lighting it was the same bright unnerving smile that beamed back at him, one that he had not seen in what was forever. In anything, being on the rooftop with Kise only seemed to bring out the beatific glow the blonde seemed to carry with him at all times.

He had seen Kise smile many times back when they were still friends, and despite not being good with social interactions, his gut feeling was that there was something about the current smile that seemed that reminded him of the pictures over the billboards in Japan. Like it wasn’t completely genuine, but rather a professional smile. Shrugging the sensation way – who was he to judge? – Daiki crossed his arms.

“Kise?” He furrowed his brow, still not a hundred percent believing what was before his eyes. “Is that really you?”

“Yes it’s me, Aominecchi! Don’t be so surprised.” There was a chuckle that seemed both nostalgic and novel at the same time.

“What are you doing here?” Even if Kise told him not to be so surprised, he couldn’t help the incredulity that bled through. Daiki rarely reacted much to anything, since most of the world didn’t interest him, but the rules always seemed to bend with it came to Kise.

After so many years Stateside, he was used to the casual manner Americans addressed one another. Although it had taken quite some time to master the strangeness of English, Daiki was fairly proficient by now. However, speaking to Kise in Japanese came naturally. He wasn’t necessarily rusty, but it had been a long time since he had spoken it to anyone outside his parents or Satsuki, and that wasn’t even very frequent. He talked to them at most once a month and it was more like every few months during the important holidays. It had been three years since he went back home, preferring to spend his summers in the States playing against the other members on his team.

“Haven’t you heard?” _Of course he hadn’t_ , Ryouta answered the question mentally. Thinking back to how out of touch Aomine had been with everything except Horikita Mai and basketball, he knew just how much attention the tanned male had paid to his career in the past. Namely none. “I’ll be working in the USA for a year.”

In the blackness of the night cast alit from the orange glow of the plentiful street lamps and light leaking out of apartment windows, one would have assumed Aomine to blend into the scenery from his coloring, but Ryouta thought it was anything but. Even with his tanned skin and black ensemble, Aomine stood out. The same way he had always stolen his attention on and off the court. It might have been a remnant of the lingering affection he had for his former teammate or genuine happiness for his friend being one step closer to reaching his goal, but his heart was glad Aomine was still willing to talk to him.

In the last few years he had matured. The youthful frustration he felt had been scabbed over across the years. After being in show business for so long, Ryouta had come to a tacit acceptance that the past could not be changed and to let bygones be bygones. In a twisted manner of speaking, if it had not been for suffering loss after loss against Aomine, his experiences as a model might have turned out very differently.

The entertainment industry was a cut-throat environment even for those at the top. Like the game with stacked blocks he had played once before, one mistake could send an individual’s reputation and life tumbling down. People were constantly trying to tear at each other and reach even higher heights. Setbacks were inevitable and Ryouta knew many colleagues who could not deal with the pressure of repeated crushing defeat. In that sense, Aomine had saved him. He had experienced loss repeated on the basketball court against his former teammate and it had not only strengthened his drive to succeed, but his fortitude as well.

“Huh.”

Daiki wasn’t sure what more to say about Kise’s ‘news.’ He had known, but the man didn’t really know how to respond. Was he supposed to feel happy that the blonde had entered his life once more? Unsettled by the thought of having Kise around again? The prospect of playing one-on-one against his former teammate was enticing, but more than that he was troubled with how much his life would change with the blonde around.

From previous encounters with Kise, the basketball player knew that he always ended up behaving differently around Kise. Like all the times he ended up playing ball with the blonde, even though it had never been his original intention. Daiki naturally felt drawn to accept those invitations. Worse, there had been a persistence in Kise’s actions that even if he wanted to ignore the blonde, there was no method for him to do so without great effort. And it wasn’t worth expending that effort, since he _had_ grudgingly enjoyed them.

The conversation naturally came to an unnatural halt as neither of them knew exactly what to say. The time that had passed was both a blessing and curse in a sense. The impact of past events was muted, whereas the uncertainty filled the missing time. It was like a fine balancing act, that both males did not know how to react to. Aomine had never been particularly vocal and Kise was at a standstill regarding how to behave towards the man who had such a strong influence in his past.

Ryouta did not want his behavior to be consumed once more by the male standing in front of him. It would be a simple matter of him falling back into either extreme. He could easily see himself admiring Aomine in a manner that bordered on unhealthy just like how he had in the past. Although he did not play basketball competitively, just seeing a court was nostalgic and made him want to throw some hoops. With the combination of basketball plus Aomine back in his life, Ryouta felt the urge to once more ask the NBA player for one-one-one match, even if he was almost certain to lose. That was the crux of the problem. It would be a simple matter of pride and ambition to once more ask for repeated games and highly possible for him to fall depressed at the outcome.

But his hands and feet were itching to battle it out on the court. In the last year especially, Ryouta had been smothered by all the media and press attention. Standing in front of the person who he knew thrived on the game only heightened those feelings. Despite everything that had happened between them, the blonde felt the idea of hitting the courts with Aomine oddly freeing. And knowing his former teammate as well as he did, Ryouta naturally asked for the same thing he had done so on multiple occasions in the past.

“Hey Aominecchi, give me your number. I want to play a one-on-one against you.”

A lazy smirk formed on Aomine’s face at the sound of it.

“I thought you were a model, pretty boy?”

“So? That doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how to play!” Ryouta retorted, even though he didn’t really have the confidence to back it up.

He might have kept in shape for his career and his copying abilities were still intact, but winning against an actual basketball player was a different matter altogether. Particularly when it came to Aomine. He had seen footage of the player on the court and although the tanned male kept up his freeform style of shooting, the man had improved significantly.

The gist of Aomine’s play style remained the same. He was a power forward as usual, but unlike at Teiko or even Touou, was more of a team player than before. It wouldn’t matter in a one-on-one, but even an uninterested member of the public would be able to tell how Aomine dominated the court and played a large role in many of the team’s victories. If he were a lesser man, Ryouta would have been intimidated by the prospect of playing against the pro. Instead, the blonde was excited by the notion of testing how well he would fare against his former teammate.

Daiki considered the idea for a short moment, slightly uncertain from playing someone who hadn’t played in a long time. The idea of Kise attempting to win while his body wasn’t at his best briefly flashed through his mind, but the Kise he knew would never so such a thing. His doctor had cleared him for light training yesterday, but no real matches for another week. Just sitting around twiddling his thumbs was grating on his nerves. Daiki _knew_ he was fit enough to play against Kise, he should be able to do so without using the full extent of his abilities, but those around him were being too careful.

“Fine, but don’t blame me if you lose. The only one that can beat me is me, after all.”

The indignation on Kise’s face was amusing. Fishing out his phone he waited until Kise had done the same before he proceeded to rattle a string of numbers. After exchanging numbers, he saved Kise’s contact as ‘pretty boy’ and pocketed his cell.

“What about tomorrow morning?”

Ryouta glanced up, surprised at Aomine taking the initiative to contact him. He was so used it being the opposite way around. But an invitation to play was an invitation to play. As long as there was time, which fortunately there was since he had the whole day free, he would play until he was exhausted. It was fortunate that although his stay in New York was work-related, there were not that many jobs on his plate compared to what awaited him back home.

“Yes. I can’t wait!” He smiled back enthusiastic at the prospect of a game. “What court?”

“I’ll text you the details. You’d better be prepared to lose, pretty boy.”

“Geez, stop calling me that Aominecchi!”

Daiki was going to retort about Kise addressing him by Aominecchi, but the idea of Kise addressing him simply as ‘Aomine’ was a depressing thought. And they weren’t close enough for him to know how to react to the blonde addressing by his first name in such a casual manner.

Before either of them could open their mouths once more, Kise’s phone vibrated.

Seeing the caller identification, Ryouta let out a small sigh before picking it up. He knew exactly what his manager was going to say. Matsuo was going rattle on about the importance of socializing, how difficult it had been to arrange his trip to the States, and how he couldn’t pass up on the opportunity. Robotically replying to the man’s words, Kise knew his temporary reprieve was over. His manager wasn’t a bad person, just too work-oriented for his liking.

Daiki waited for the call to end. From the snippets he had inadvertently listened into, he knew the unexpected meeting with Kise was coming to a close. Even if he had not planned to bump into the blonde, Daiki was marginally upset at the prospect of parting with Kise so soon. At least he would be able to see the blonde tomorrow.

After another minute or so, Kise hung up the phone with an apologetic look on his face.

“Sorry Aominecchi, I need to return to the party.”

“Whatever. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah! See you tomorrow!”

The sight of Kise’s departing back filled him with a sense of dissatisfaction. As limited as that conversation had been, talking with the other male had made him forget about the event happening below them. Daiki could only focus on fact that the blonde was actually standing in front of him and the prospect of having a one-on-one with Kise. He had not felt this close to anyone in a long time.

He wasn’t sure what he would consider Kise as. They were friends in the past, but after all that happened, he wasn’t sure if that was appropriate term. They no longer competed against one another professionally, so opponent was not correct either. The blonde obviously was not just an acquaintance or person he knew, but more than that and less than a lover or sibling.

Whatever, Daiki stopped caring about it. He could figure it out after playing with Kise. Oddly enough, he couldn’t wait.

He returned to the fundraiser downstairs for a short while, hoping to catch sight and talk to Kise once more. It was in vain and he did not manage to catch the familiar blonde hair amongst all the other unfamiliar heads. Disappointed, he left early and went home.

That night Daiki dreamed. Of things long forgotten or buried over the years. Of previous lifetimes he had no previous knowledge of. Of events that had not passed, but some secret side of him did. Of a specific golden-eyed blonde that was both the bane of his existence and the panacea to the growing apathy he felt.


	5. Reliving the past

**_"Love is being stupid together.” ―Paul Valéry_ **

 

The moment they met up once more it was unsurprisingly in front of a basketball court. It took a while for them to feel comfortable with each other – many years had passed and they were fundamentally different people now with different interests – but once on the court it was easily forgotten. Their old camaraderie, if it could be considered that given how soundly Aomine had beaten Kise on the first day, was so familiar and easy to slip back into. It was like they were transported back in time, where life comprised of shooting hoops and playing against each other.

The NBA player had improved by leaps and bounds, making it a struggle for the blonde to keep up. Ryouta was in shape, but the muscles and speed needed to keep up with the tanned male as he ran around the court were completely different. Even with his copying abilities, which were rough from disuse, it was hard to keep up. Within half an hour, he was breathing heavily.

The funny thing was that unlike before when he might have felt playing against Aomine daunting, it wasn’t like that at all. He couldn’t remember how much fun it had been to be on the court and push himself to the limits with adrenaline rushing through his veins and dopamine surging through his head. It was almost like they had regressed back to their time at Teito, when playing against the basketball idiot was all he could think about.

Ryouta probably should have held back or not forced himself to try so hard. The first day his body felt like crap, his muscles protested with every movement he made. It was the same the next time they met up. Unlike before, it took a week or two for his body to reacclimatize itself with the strenuous exercise, but every ounce of sweat and pain was worth it.

Each and every spare moment he had was spent thinking about the next time he could be on the court again. Feel the ground against his feet, the roughness of the basketball as he dribbled it, and the exhilaration of dodging and weaving. On more than one occasion, Ryouta had been tempted to skip out on his work to play ball.

Being on a different continent where he wasn’t so famous meant that Ryouta had more free time than he knew what to do. That was one of the largest benefits of being on foreign soil. His manager had found a few jobs for him, but they didn’t consume his life at the same level they did back in Japan. Since Aomine was the only person he knew that wasn’t work-related, more often than not, he found himself contacting the tanned male to hang out. If he was lucky, he sometimes wrangled Aomine into basketball unrelated activities such as visiting the Statue of Liberty or eating out at a nice restaurant somewhere.

For the first time in a long time, Ryouta felt like he was actually alive again. It was like burst of light at the end of a long dark and suffocating tunnel. The blonde didn’t have to wake up and worry about how he was going to get to his destination without being mobbed. Others at his work had commented about the sudden change in attitude, but he waved it off saying that he was having fun in a different country.

He felt strangely possessive over Aomine, or rather secretive over being longtime friends, if it could be considered that, with an NBA star. Maybe it was his fear that those in his work would try and drag Aomine into his work or use the connections, but Ryouta wanted to keep the knowledge a secret as much as possible.

Being in a country where the average height was taller than Japan made it easier yet for them to blend into the crowd. Having darkened sunglasses obviously helped. Very rarely, in the middle of nowhere, someone would come up to them and ask for Aomine’s autograph. At first Ryouta was afraid he had been recognized, but that wasn’t the case. They didn’t overwhelm them as much as his fans back in Japan, but it was funny how the tables had turned. He joked about it to the younger male once or twice.

The one thing that Ryouta kept to himself, however, was the realization that it would be super easy for his feelings to grow to encompass more than just friendship. The blonde did not want to go through what he had felt before. Aomine likely never realized what had happened, but they had more or less patched up after the whole fist in the face incident with Haizaki. Although the tanned male was still rude and a jerk, Ryouta could feel the love his former teammate had for the sport once more, the positive energy increasing with each game. It was infectious and troubling. The man continued to dominate the court, weaving around and executing his formless shot like it was second nature. But that power and grace only excited Ryouta more. A small voice inside told him to stop before it was too late, but perhaps it was already too late the moment he stepped back into the court with Aomine.

It was like a positive feedback loop that kept growing with no end in sight. Of course, there was a limit to human ability, but between the two former teammates, it didn’t seem like that. Watching Kise improve, only forced Aomine to try harder, which in turn spurred the blonde on.

Daiki could see it in those amber eyes challenging him, goading him on. It propelled him to reach deeper inside and forced him to play better. The first few matches were easy; Kise was clearly out of practice and the casual playing helped him readjust to his healing ankle. Naturally, their games grew more intense. Even though Daiki still won, the fire had been lit. He’d tease the blonde for being a pretty boy and the model would always retort and say that he’d win the next time they played.

Even though he wasn’t the type to contact people ahead of time, Daiki found himself doing that when it came to Kise. Simple things like asking whether the blonde was free for a game or a meal whenever he was bored. He found himself looking forward to their excursions and frustrated whenever Kise had to cancel due to some last minute modelling gig or photoshoot.

One of the best things he found about playing with Kise was the fact the blonde’s perfect copy ability it meant they had some fairly close matches. Better yet, although it was not Daiki’s intent, whenever Kise tried something from someone he was going to playing against, it allowed him to find ways to break said opponent’s defenses.

Due to his ankle injury and one of the other power forwards on their team having a sprained wrist, the chances of them getting past the Eastern conference was slim. They were already behind on points. Although he was disappointed he couldn’t brag to Kise that he was going to be MVP, he still got tickets for his former teammate to watch one of the last games he’d be playing.

Kise responded by saying he’d try to come, but it wasn’t a surefire thing with how some of his work was going. The tanned male did not know why, but he found himself praying that the blonde would show up. Those hopes were rewarded. Daiki could remember the golden-haired male shouting and celebrating when he made the winning shot. The blonde had texted him later congratulating him with his excessive use of emojis, but the praise annoyed him less than he thought.

Any bitterness the blonde had back then seemed to be water under the bridge, but it was difficult to judge when Kise was so skilled at faking smiles. Sometimes he caught the other male with what looked like hesitation when they chatted, but he disregarded it. As much as Daiki wanted to know why the hesitation was there, he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t just a trick of light. Having spent his youth swimming in basketball, he wasn’t good at reading people like Kise. Satsuki was better at that. And so, he did the one thing he could and pretended it never happened.

Most of their conversation spiraled around basketball, the NBA, or something similar. The basketball player never much any interest in the entertainment industry and being socially inept meant he didn’t really pursue the issue. Sometimes they talked and reminisced about their mutual acquaintances. It was more stories about the past and less so about the present. Daiki wasn’t the type to stay social and neither of them had met any of their Teito friends for over a year making it difficult for either of them stay afloat on what was happening.

Once Kise asked him about why he wasn’t in a relationship and there wasn’t much Daiki could say. How could he respond by saying that he didn’t even know the reason himself. Worse, those insidious dreams had come back alive, stronger than ever, after Kise mentioned he wasn’t seeing anything and that Daiki was the person closest to him at the moment. At more than one point, he was tempted to go pick up someone for sex, but his coach and his team’s manager would only get upset. Instead there were a lot of cold showers. It was difficult to feign interest in Horikita Mai or other gravure models when the thing in front of him was what his brain couldn’t seem to give up. To mask his frustration, he blamed Kise for being single and screwing up his life again, grunting noncommittally whenever the topic came up again.

But that was the extent of what their relationship was at the moment. It lived and thrived on the court and the times immediately before and after it.

Aomine never invited Kise to his apartment and the blonde never reciprocated. They were already stretching their bounds when Kise asked Aomine to show him the sights around the city. Doing non-basketball things were not in the tanned male’s repertoire, yet he somehow found time to accompany his friend around.

If they had time after a game, they would go for food. Along with those greasy American burgers, that Kise’s managers berated him for eating, being in New York meant they could actually obtain authentic Japanese ramen. One of the perks of living in the Big Apple was the food. Sometimes they'd get drinks in the evening. There was no set routine and they never bothered with one. If neither of them were hungry, it was sometimes ice cream, which Aomine of course tried to steal a bite out of and Kise whining at how Aomine still owed him for things that happened back in high school.

Even though they were both in their twenties, they behaved like children at times. Large, six-foot tall children joking around without a care in the world. Kise would call his former teammate “Aominecchi” and the man would retort that Kise was a pretty boy. Aomine teased Kise and the blonde would complain that he was being bullied, yet didn’t do much else. It was what they were familiar with, yet that immaturity was also dangerous. They might be dealing with the current situation on the fly with what felt most comfortable, but neither of them was ten years old in body or in mind.

It was like they were both balancing on a teeter-totter. Something had to give.


	6. A call from the past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics featured in the "song" was actually the reason I started writing this piece... The template for reading the lyrics is as follows:  
>  ****  
> Voice 1  
>          Voice 2  
>  _Both voices/Duet_
> 
> P.S. This time’s quote isn’t about romantic love, but I figured it just as accurate to describe the relationships in this chapter.
> 
> * * *

_You know, one of the most ironic things about life are that things you least want to hear, sometimes are the ones that get to the root of the problem. Maybe it’s because we’re all too stubborn to face the truth of the matter, but fortunately or unfortunately, things never go as planned. I’m pretty sure all of us at one point or another have realized that life is a shitstorm and we’re all going to hell because of it._

_I’d like to say the truth is out there like one of those alien or UFO hunters, but in all seriousness, it’s inside of us. It’s the sins that we try and deny. The envy we pretend not to feel. The gut-aching want for more. For some, it’s the feelings of adoration and love we pretend not to feel. And many times, it takes someone else close to us to guide us to said truths._

_In the end, however, painful the process of realizing what we’re hiding from might be, things never go as planned. For me, for you, and even our beloved characters here, as one of them soon realizes what’s been niggling at him for a while. Sometimes the result is positive, sometimes it’s negative. Only time, never stopping, will tell._

 

* * *

 

**_“A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you.” ― Elbert Hubbard_ **

 

It had been slightly over two months since the clock started ticking once more, but when he was enjoying himself so much as he had been in the past few weeks it was a little difficult to say how much time had passed. But given how much time _had_ passed, he should have expected the conversation to come up sooner or later. Even after all this time, Satsuki was still as much of a busy body as she had been before.

 “Dai-chan! You never told me you met up with Ki-chan again!” Putting the phone on speaker, he stalked off to the kitchen to grab a water bottle, knowing what his childhood friend was going to say. It was no different from all those times she had fretted and worried about him back in their middle and high school years. “I had to find out through the news! The news, Dai-chan! You should be telling these kinds of things to me. How is he? Is Dai-chan okay? Is he eating properly? How’s his English?”

“Satsuki. One question at a time.” Daiki sighed as he sat back down, flipping on the television on the opposite end of the room. He could almost imagine his childhood friend in front of him, talking at him in that annoying high-pitched whine, scolding him and complaining about how little he called her. He knew it was her way of making sure everything was okay, but the way Satsuki would panic over things sometimes grated on his nerves. “He’s fine.”

Daiki wondered what news agency had reported on Kise and him hanging out. Or perhaps it was the blonde himself. Kise seemed to enjoy being in the spotlight a little too much and frequently took pictures whenever the pretty boy wasn’t busy getting his ass kicked on the court. Both of them were fairly famous according to Satsuki within Japan, given how they had achieved international acclaim. And it figured that having two famous Japanese people who were middle school friends hanging out in the States would be a hot topic.

“He’s fine! What kind of answer is that?” He could almost imagine the indignant face she was sporting. At least she couldn’t just fly over and knock on his door like when they were still in Japan. That had been annoying. Even if she lacked the physical strength to drag him anywhere, sometimes one would simply concede to get her to regain a peace of mind. “You know how Ki-chan can get when he’s modeling. He sometimes forgets to eat or sleep! You need to look after him for me! For us!”

“He’s a grown man.” Daiki rolled his eyes at her exaggeration. It was true that Kise often went overboard with things, such as injuring himself in the pursuit of defeating him, but it wasn’t his role to interfere with the blonde’s work.

In fact, they almost never talked about work whenever they hung out. The pretty boy would sometimes bring up the last ball game and they’d try certain moves on the court. Most of the times, they would just play ball and grab food afterwards. It was pretty similar to what they had done back in middle school. Their respective schedules sometimes made it difficult to coordinate, but neither of them had made a strict commitment.

Playing with Kise was always invigorating and they didn’t need to worry about all those rules, his form, or any of those nitpicky things his coach and team cared about. It was just playing basketball for the sake of enjoying basketball. Even if he still continued to win, the blonde was improving fast. Daiki supposed it wasn’t so surprising with the pretty boy’s copying abilities.

“But Dai-chan, you’re the only one he has over there! Try to remember when you first moved to New York.”

“I’m not his babysitter, Satsuki…” He groaned.

Honestly, Daiki couldn’t remember much from when he moved over here. His mind had been consumed by the thought he would finally play in the NBA. What he came here to do was play basketball and as long he was able to play against those stronger than him, he was satisfied. Sure, it was tough learning English, but he didn’t care to communicate much with others anyways. The only other memories he had were going out drinking and clubbing with his teammates and random strangers. It wasn’t like one needed that much English to order a drink or get drunk.

“But Dai-chan…”

“Satsuki, he has a manager to deal with that shit.” Kise was the type of person that had the annoying bubbling personality that drew people in like honey, so it wasn’t like the pretty boy would encounter many problems. People like the blonde and Kise always reciprocated with those bright-ass smiles. Hell, it was the blonde’s job to be liked by the masses. Daiki just found all that PR bullshit a pain in his ass.

“Don’t swear Dai-chan.” She huffed and he rolled his eyes are the demand. Satsuki had been trying to get him to stop cursing for a long time, but had never succeeded. “And I know he has a manager, but I’m still worried. You’re the only one I know over there, so keep an eye out for him okay?”

“Fine, whatever.”

“Dai-chan…”

Turning up the television, Daiki could hear Satsuki ramble on and on in the background. She always said the same things. Talking about work, how the rest of the Miracles were doing, and how he should take better care of himself. As much as he appreciated the updates and concern, his childhood friend often came across as a small sparrow that loved to talk, and talk… and talk.

He understood her concern at some level. Satsuki was the only who had remained steadfast through all the shit that had happened in high school. Daiki knew he had caused her endless grief during those years, but he was secretly grateful she hadn’t abandoned him like everyone else around him. She had never given up hope and had stuck through all the rough patches, such as when Touou had been defeated by Bakagami and Tetsu.

He was glad she was finally over her crush on Tetsu though. It had been a giant pain in his ass when she came to his room and began crying, insisted on drinking, and then talking drunkenly at him. Even so, he was glad she had moved on. Satsuki was closer to him than most of his family was, almost like an annoying sister. And as annoying as that sometimes was, sometimes his pink-haired childhood friend was the best at getting through to him.

Midway through her rant, a particular male voice came across the phone.

_“… dead of night where no one sees, I’ll always think of you.”_

“Who’s that, Satsuki?”

“Who’s who? Are you even listening to me, Dai-chan?” The voices continued to sound in the background as his pink-haired friend groused. A particularly evocative melody carried through the speaker and Satsuki finally seemed to catch on to what he was referring to. “Oh, you mean my music?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s Ki-chan’s new song! I mean it’s not really his, but he did a duet with the Rin Natsukawa. I mean can you believe it? Our Kise singing with Rin-san?!” Daiki grunted. He had heard Kise’s voice many times before, and sometimes in karaoke, but he had never really paid attention to it. It was deeper than the high-pitched squealing he typically associated with the pretty boy. “Here I’ll send you the link to the MV. It’s called _Forever Love_.”

There was a little ping on his phone alerting him to the link. Mentally making a note to take a look at it later, Daiki turned his attention back to the television.

Later that night, the lyrics of Kise’s voice seemed to resonate inside his skull for some absurd reason. Maybe it was that he was simply unused to hearing the blonde outside of those demands for playing basketball, which made listening to the music video so unique. Daiki didn’t really follow music much; it was nice to have when working out or to drown out distractions, but definitely not in the same way Satsuki did. There was, however, something about Kise’s voice that made it difficult for him to sleep. The words themselves weren’t especially different from most J-pop songs, but the tune of the duet and how the voices worked together in harmony was hauntingly beautiful.

It evoked some strange sense of longing in him. Even before Kise had come back into his life, Daiki was feeling a renewed sense of ennui. If it weren’t for the bad press – and his coach and the team hated bad press – he would have gone out and hooked up with random woman. It had gone away since bumping into the blonde, but the words only seemed to draw that sensation back out. It seemed to remind him that something was missing and for some inexplicable reason, that void had been filled up with being with Kise. Daiki had no idea what it was with Kise, but for some reason he could never really forget about the pretty boy.

Closing his eyes, all he could hear were the lyrics from that music video echoing indefinitely in his mind.

 

Even if your heart changes, I’ll stay the same loving you

From the day we met, for you, my heartbeat only breathed

Being apart – there was no light in my day

_Forget? How could I ever forget?_

 

In the dead of night where no one sees, I’ll always think of you

Your love used to be so warm, bone deep, meant everything to me

Tell me… how could I ever let you go?

_No…Please don't ever part with me…_

 

When my greedy love was severed, it tore open my heart

All I wanted was to be in your arms, never let go

If only we’d promised, this would never have happened

Please, I’m begging you…

This love between us is not that weak

Don’t go… I can’t do this again.

I’ll wait, I’ll always be there for you

_If it’s you, I’ll always say I love you._

 

In the dead of night where no one sees, I’ll always think of you.

Your love used to be so warm, bone deep, meant everything to me

Tell me… how could I ever let you go?

_No…Please don't ever part with me…_

 

When my greedy love was severed, it tore open my heart

Embraced by you, why would I ever leave?

Until the skies fall and winds turn dark, I won’t forget

When fate made us part… so did my heart

Rain falls, drowns out the pain of losing you

Tell me, how can I ever let you go?

I’ll wait until the end, until daylight fades

_No…Please don’t ever leave me…_

_If it’s you… I’ll say once more…_

_I love you._


	7. Alive once more

**_The hours I spend with you I look upon as sort of a perfumed garden, a dim twilight, and a fountain singing to it.  You and you alone make me feel that I am alive. ~George Moore_ **

 

“Hey, that’s cheating!”

“You just hate losing, Aominecchi!” Ryouta shouted back gleefully. Using Midorima’s ability to shoot from the far end of the court was draining on what little stamina he still had, but the blonde intended to give Aomine a run for his money. They were seeing who could more points within an hour and he had managed to keep break even so far. Pushing his body to the limit was exhausting, but it was worth it. That last basket had pushed him a point above the NBA player. It didn’t mean much in the overall scheme of things, but Ryouta would take the minor victory any day.

He had come close to tying Aomine on multiple occasions in the past, but the tanned male would suddenly find a burst of speed or whatever it was and score the winning basket. Ryouta didn’t necessarily mind the losses as much as they had in the past. When they were back at Teiko, he had been used to being the best. No one was his equal or even came close to his equal with his copying abilities. And then he met Aomine. Perhaps that was why he had been so hell-bent on defeating his former teammate.

The friendly camaraderie they had once had had reemerged. The blonde had been fed up with the paparazzi, his manager, and all the people involved with his photo shoots, but being with Aomine was a breath of greatly needed fresh air. The tanned man served as an inspiratory figure in many ways. Or maybe it was because the Knicks player never seemed to give up, thus fueling Ryouta’s desire to overthrow the self-proclaimed king.

As much as Ryouta loved modelling, nothing could compare to the exhilaration he felt competing against Aomine in basketball. Aomine had always been a natural on the court, and now, the only words he could find to describe the man was sleek, dark, like a panther. One who didn’t show his full strength until absolutely necessary.

“Oi, pretty boy.”

“What, Aominecchi?” Ryouta raised his head from the drenching he was giving it with a water bottle. Although he had lost the game, there had been a stretch when he had been neck in neck with Aomine. Even then, the tanned male was almost as out of breath as he was. The fact that Ryouta could give a pro player a run for his money was a victory in the blonde’s mind.

“Satsuki is worried about you. You should give her a call or something.”

“Momoicchi?!” Ryouta’s ears immediately perked up at the mention of their mutual friend. It had been nearly two years since he had laid eyes on the pink-haired woman, and almost as long since he had talked to her. Ever since their times back at Teiko, he had had a soft spot for her. She was one of the only people who seemed to follow and with whom he could talk his modelling career or non-basketball related things. She certainly was interested in the sport, but compared to all the basketball idiots like Kagamicchi or Aominecchi, Momoi Satsuki had been the only one he could have a decently normal conversation with off the court.

“Yeah.”

“How is she?”

“Fine, probably.” Aomine shrugged nonchalantly, turning towards him after making another signature freeform shot on the court. “Just copy her number off my phone and talk to her yourself.”

Humming to himself, he noticed that one of the last texts Momoicchi had sent to Aomine was a video link. Curious, since Aomine wasn’t the type to follow pop culture and Momoi wouldn’t do something she didn’t think the tanned male would look at, Ryouta clicked on it. A few minutes later, a familiar tune rang out as he realized it was _his_ music video.

Increasing the volume, he let the bittersweet duet pour over him. Ryouta had almost forgotten that he had worked on such a piece with one of Japan’s most celebrated vocal artists. It was his first and only time singing and even if it didn’t show, he had been a nervous wreck throughout. When he had first read the lyrics and heard the music, it had been difficult for him to capture the raw emotions being sung. Even weirder, when he finally begun to become one with the music, he was reminded of Aomine’s face and all those fun times they shared back at Teiko. Now that he had the real thing in front of him, those memories were but pale reflections of the basketball addict.

“Did you listen to my song, Aominecchi?” Given that he had been part of what inspired Ryouta’s song, it was imperative that the blonde hear his friend’s opinion. The blonde seriously hoped the Knicks’ player had not dismissed it out of hand. It would crush him if that were the case. “How was it? Did you like it?”

“What song?”

“This one!” Ryouta held up the phone and blasted the volume up to max. Singing along with the lyrics, it only took a few lines before the tanned male scowled. “So, how did you like it, Aominecchi? Maybe I should change careers and be a J-pop artist?”

“Oi, don’t get too over your head, pretty boy. It was only okay.”

“Only okay?” He pouted. The tanned male always had a way of dismissing things when he was embarrassed or uninterested. Figuring that it would have been taken as a joke anyways, Ryouta decided to take a leap of faith and reveal the truth behind the piece. “Did you know I was thinking about you when singing?”

“The fuck?” Aomine spluttered. The dark-skinned male looked like he had just been fed something nasty.

“Haha! Fooled you, Baka-Aominecchi!” One moment later, a basketball came hurtling towards his head and Ryouta ducked, grabbing it out of midair as he did so. The blonde screeched, tossing the ball back at his friend. “Aominecchi! What was that for! You could have killed me!”

“Stop obsessing over your song and play some more basketball with me, pretty boy.”

“Fine.” Ryouta huffed, jogging enthusiastically back onto the court. He still had an hour before he was supposed to meet with his manager, and it would be more than enough time to get his revenge. Even if Aomine was a pro and his friend, he was going to make the other man pay for what he had almost done to his face and for insulting his song.

 

When Ryouta walked in to meet his manager, he assumed everything was going to continue as it had been. He’d be told his schedule and end up posing for some magazine or modeling for some clothing company. But this time was different.

“Come, sit down. I have something to ask you.”

“Matsuo-san?” Casting a bewildered glance as his manager beckoned him to sit down, the blonde waited for the other Japanese man to pull out a folder and place a few pictures on the table.

“Kise, isn’t this Aomine-san from the Knicks?” Matsuo pointed to a picture of them. Ryouta had been aware that some photos had been taken by admiring fans during their street games, but there was a small collection there. And some of the shots seemed decently professional as well.

“Yup, it’s Aominecchi. Why? Is something wrong?” Ryouta’s stomach plummeted at the thought that he might not be able to continue his one-on-ones with his former teammate. Whenever Matsuo began to talk and presented pictures out of the blue, it generally wasn’t good news. One time, for example, he had been photographed hugging Momoicchi, and it had caused a giant wave when the picture hit the papers. Naturally, there wasn’t anything between him and his friend, but the reporters had taken the image and blew the entire story up. Ryouta only hoped they weren’t doing it again. It wasn’t like he had neglected his training or his shoots, and his body was in better than shape than it had been before playing basketball again.

But his PR team took public opinion very importantly; especially the opinion back at home. If there was even the slightest hint of scandal, he would likely find himself shipped and sent back to Japan. Ryouta definitely did not want that to happen. He had finally begun finding a happy equilibrium in his life once more, and he wanted to continue his life as he had been living it in the last couple of months.

“No, but you have a job offer involving your friend.”

It took Ryouta a few seconds to realize that his world hadn’t just ended. But the latter part of the statement was just as shocking as the relief he felt when he realized it wasn’t a scandal but a job. The tanned male had never shown much of an interest in models or modelling aside from gravure models, which made him wonder who came up with the idea. Blinking, he looked back at the person his manager was pointing at.

“Aominecchi?”


	8. Beside you once more

**_I almost wish we were butterflies and liv'd but three summer days - three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.  ~John Keats_ **

 

“Say what?” Aomine had almost spit out the water he was drinking at the offer the team’s manager mentioned.

“We’re saying that Nike wants you to shoot a commercial for them. They asked for you specifically.”

“Why me?” The tanned male scowled at the notion. He’d play nice with the press when necessary, but his job was to play basketball. It wasn’t to do things like look pretty in front of a camera. That was Kise’s job. “Find someone else.”

“Well you see,” John, the team’s manager started pulling out enlarged images out of a folder, “apparently news of the games you’ve been playing on the public courts have garnered some attention.”

Learning over, he could make out the image of him and Kise on the court. It wasn’t clear which neighborhood court it was taken in, but it was easy to see how much fun they were having. In more than one picture, the photographer had caught him and the blonde laughing and interacting in some friendly manner.

“Somehow, it came to their attention that the blonde in the picture is a model from Japan. Typically, they would want someone else, but someone there thinks that if this… camaraderie between you and this Ry-Ryouta… Kise…” Aomine cringed internally at how the man had pronounced Kise’s name. It sounded like someone was trying to say ‘Ry-oh-ta Kii-ss’ instead of Ryouta Kise. “…can be replicated in front of a camera, it would make for a great shoot.”

“So what?” He shrugged nonchalantly. “Just because they have a few pics of me playing ball, doesn’t mean anything. You already know how much I hate being in front of a camera. That’s what you guys are for.”

“We think it would be a great opportunity for you.” Rachel, the Knick’s PR and media director, took over the explanation. “We are well aware that your injury prevented you from playing at your full capacity this season,” Daiki scowled at the reminder of his accident, “but we as a team can easily envision you becoming MVP one day. It would then behoove you to consider the one-time offer, since it might lead to the sponsorship all players–”

“Rachel…” John interrupted, switching the conversation back onto the topic at hand. “We know that you’ve had a few less than spectacular run-ins with the press, Daiki, but if this goes right, you could be the face of the Knicks for the next season and perhaps even longer than that. Many of our fans already know you as a great player and there aren’t many games until the season starts, but this could potentially spread your name even further.”

Daiki didn’t know what to say against such persistence. He certainly did not need the money. He already had a multimillion-dollar annual contract from playing with the Knicks. All he cared about was playing basketball. And so long as he had a place to eat, sleep, and shit, Daiki was happy spending the rest of his time on the court. It wasn’t like he could keep buying basketballs or shoes. And the rest of the fame crap or whatever they were saying didn’t even register in his mind. Daiki had never been good at thinking of such complicated matters, even if they involved him.

“What about Kise?” He scowled as the non-Japanese speakers in the room looked at him confused. It had taken them a few tries to pronounce his name right. Strangers often pronounced it as ‘die-key,’ which was closer to being correct, but it still sounded wrong. Some had even tried pronouncing his last name as they would have done in Japan, but that sounded even worse. Daiki still found it weird being addressed by his first name, but he had gotten over it rather quickly when it came to those on his team. Others, such as reporters and journalists, he simply ignored.

“The blonde model?”

“Yeah.” He grunted. Stupid Americans and their inability to pronounce or listen to Japanese names.

“We haven’t heard anything yet, but the conversation I had with someone on their side made it seem like they would be accepting the job.” Daiki scowled at the thought. Naturally, the pretty boy would agree to anything that would make him look pretty in front of the camera. Worse, Akashi and therefore Satsuki would somehow hear of this and hound him to no end. Daiki wondered why he had been dragged into this fiasco in the first place. “What is your relationship with him?”

“We were on the same team once.”

“Hmm… back in school?”

“Yeah, middle school. Teiko Middle School.” Daiki figured the issue of how he knew Kise would come up eventually. Digging the past was what the press excelled at doing. Besides, it wasn’t like they had anything to hide.

“That makes sense. It would explain how you guys know each other and his skills on the court.” John nodded thoughtfully at the new information. “You have until the end of the week to make your decision. We won’t force you to choose, but all of us would feel rather happy if you did decide to take the job.” The man pushed the offer contract towards him. “Read it through and let us know.”

 

Dribbling the ball loudly over the court, Daiki was rather pissed that Kise had accepted the offer. Just because he enjoyed shooting hoops with the pretty boy, didn’t mean he enjoyed posing on front of the camera and pretending to smile. At the same time, however, the prospect of playing one-on-one with Kise more than they already had been was… exciting.

Over the last few weeks, the model’s schedule had become busier, decreasing the number of one-on-ones they had. Daiki couldn’t fault the blonde for doing his job, but it left him feeling bored. He played against those on his team once in a while, but it wasn’t the same. They were still competitive and put up a good fight, but they lacked the raw determination and unending perseverance the pretty boy had. The tanned male didn’t feel the need to push himself to the limits in the same way he did when facing off against Kise’s copying abilities.

Leaping into the air, he snapped his wrist and sent the ball flying towards the backboard. There was no doubt in his mind that it was going to get into the hoop. There was a loud bang as the ball bounced off and fell dead center through the metal ring.           

Basketball was like breathing to him, so his performance in front of a camera wasn’t an issue. He just hated the idea of playing some crappy subpar basketball and smiling in front a camera when he clearly did not feel that way. Kise might not feel that way, but faking his skill at basketball made him want to bash someone’s head in.

Daiki had briefly contemplated contacting Satsuki and asking for her thought on the matter, but the moment he thought of doing so, he imagined her excited squeal. His childhood friend would obviously support the position, and likely inform all of their friends about it. Hell, she might even invite them all for some fucked up commercial watching party or something. Daiki figured he had already done his part by telling Kise that Satsuki was worried about him, and even if he didn’t tell her directly, Kise likely would.

Glaring at the wad of documents on the bench, the tanned male wondered if he could just burn them and be done with it. They likely had electronic copies and he might be reprimanded for doing so, but Daiki loathed the idea of posing in front of the camera. As a basketball player, he was always hounded by the press before and after a game, especially in cases when they won or lost spectacularly. However, the fact that he would be working with Kise gave him pause.

Daiki hadn’t bothered ringing up the blonde, asking for an explanation. Calling people over the phone was never his forte, and he had been irritated that the pretty boy had decided without even asking him about it. He had been at the team’s court for over a few hours and exerting himself for so long had helped drive away all those thoughts. Glancing at the empty court and back at the cursed papers, he let out a heavy sigh.

 

Pulling into the studio’s parking lot with John, Daiki clearly felt out of place with so many cameras and all those unfamiliar faces. They had cameras and mics when he played on the court, but it didn’t feel the same. There was no one sitting in some director’s chair, nor was there a white background clearly used for a photoshoot.

Shaking hands with the people on the production team, he nodded and grunted whenever a question was posed. It was like an entirely different world here. Everyone acted like Kise, effervescent and needlessly cheerful. Daiki was itching to get his hands on a basketball and play some ball. If he couldn’t, he would much rather not be here.

“Aominecchi!” Kise’s voice rang out as the blonde pretty boy rushed towards him, talking excitedly in Japanese. “You made it!”

“Use English, Kise-san.” A glasses-wearing Japanese man corrected the blonde.

“Sorry,” the model smiled sheepishly, making the rest of the way to him. “How are you doing, Aominecchi?”

“Nothing much.” Daiki grunted. Hearing Kise speak English was weird. Whenever they had one-on-ones, not that they talked much, they always communicated in Japanese. It was what they were used to, and came readily. Further, unlike him, the blonde had not spent the last few years living in the United States, meaning that Kise’s Japanese accent was definitely audible. He almost could not understand the blonde.

“Aren’t you ex-excited to be playing basketball? I am! It’s been almost a week since we had a one-on-one!”

“Not really.” Daiki shrugged. The prospect of a one-on-one appealed to him, but what they would be doing would not be a regular one-on-one. At least that was how it had been explained to him. He had almost changed his mind at the last minute, but he had only agreed because he needed something to do given how busy Kise was and how much spare time he had. There was a limit to playing against his teammates or players who were much weaker than him, and Daiki really needed the challenge. Besides, it was always amusing watching Kise struggle against him futilely.

“Aominecchi… so mean!” The blonde whined. “Can’t you be nicer to me?”

“Kise-san...” The model’s manager stepped in, interrupting their conversation.

"Sorry, Matsuo. I kind of got carried away.” Kise made a small apology, before turning to English-speaking individuals around them with his business smile. Daiki had to roll his eyes as they were easily sucked into the bright smile Kise used, tuning out the rest of the conversation.

It had been a pain in the ass, but after another solid half an hour, he finally had a basketball in his hands. The director had told him and Kise to do whatever was natural, and then depending on how it went, they would change things up. Daiki hadn’t realized how much pointless primping and make-up needed to be put on before a shoot. According to those around him, it was to prevent the sweat from ruining the shoot and such. Honestly, tt was all a waste of time, but thankfully they didn’t have to do much.

Smirking at the pretty boy, Daiki took off dribbling the ball.


	9. Hearts beating once more

**_“Romance is the glamour which turns the dust of everyday life into a golden haze.” ―Elinor Glyn_ **

 

Daiki had to admit in retrospect that agreeing to the commercial shoot hadn’t been that bad. He had an excuse to meet up and play basketball with Kise, which was really the only thing that kept his boredom at bay during the off-season. It wasn’t perfect as they naturally deviated towards being their competitive selves and taunting one another in Japanese meaning that several retakes had to be done. Even then, it was worth it being able to play against his middle school friend.

The tanned male had expected shooting to take a day or two, but instead it took more than a week. After the initial shots, the people in charge wanted to change the scenery and do some outdoors in one of the neighborhood courts. One thing became another and there were some scenes which he was forced to sit in the locker room, sit on a bench, and smile while saying some lame lines. Hell, they had Kise do the same even if the golden boy wasn’t even part of the NBA, though, stamina aside, given Kise’s skill, he could compete professionally if he wanted to.

During the shoots, Daiki had overheard others ask if Kise was a professional basketball player  in disguise or why he hadn’t joined the NBA – clearly he had the skills to hold his own against a pro – and the golden boy would smile and charm the pants off in his typical evasive manner. Truth be told, sometimes the tanned male wondered the same thing. Any team would be hard pressed to find someone as motivated and talented as Kise when it came to basketball. After losing a one-on-one, most people would call it quits, but his former teammate never had. And of course, there was that charisma that Kise seemed to exude with that damnable smile which was too bright for Daiki to even look at.

It was strange seeing his former teammate do his thing and draw people in with those golden locks and eyes, using his accented English as a conversation starter, and make obnoxiously long small talk.

Unlike the times back on set when he could toss a ball at the pretty boy and expect Kise to chase after him, Daiki couldn’t do much more than sit and drink at the moment. The shooting had finally come a couple of days ago, and they had been invited to a view the final product. After some persuasion from his manager, he had reluctantly gone. It wasn’t anything special and he felt like a retard standing there with a ball in his hand, wearing his jersey, and promoting his Nike shoes. Surprisingly, they had made three versions, one with him as the focus, another merely showing them play ball and a third-party narrating, and a Japanese one in which Kise and him were both the leads. Satsuki would undoubtedly see the last version – if not all three – and bug him about it.

After the viewing, they had gone to a bar with the rest of the crew and some of their friends for a celebratory wrap-up party. Even if he wasn’t much of a social animal, it was difficult to pass up the invitation for free drinks. And of course, Kise had bugged him to attend.

Waving the waitress over, Daiki admired her sizable assets for a moment, before asking for another beer. He had stopped counting after the third one and was beginning to feel a little bit of a buzz. As fun as it was drinking and watching some of the people he had been working with get smashed or on the dance floor, he found it difficult to tear his eyes away from Kise who was sitting on the next table, surrounded by several of the female crew members who were currently fawning over him.

“And that shot, that was amazing!” Daiki absentmindedly nodded at what his conversation partner was gushing about. He had barely heard a word she had said. Glancing to the table across from him, he noticed that one of Kise’s groupies had all but crawled into the blonde’s lap. Anna – if that was her name – seemed to notice his distraction and followed his gaze to stare at Kise. “You didn’t tell me your friend was such a looker, Daiki!”

Shrugging, he took a large swig out of his bottle, ignoring the soft flesh pressed up against his arm. Under any other circumstances he would have done what any other hot-blooded male would have done and groped a feel or two. She had been one of the makeup artists who had worked on him and had no shame showing off her assets either. They had had a thing several years ago, on and off, for sex, but nothing more than that. From the beginning, Anna had been fairly forward in her pursuit of him and although Daiki could see himself having another one-night stand in some hotel with her, he really wasn’t in the mood.

“Do you know if your friend is single?”

“Who – Kise?” He was momentarily confused at the sudden change in topic.

“Yup, Kara over there,” she nodded towards the redhead sitting at Kise’s table sneaking glances at the golden boy, “has a crush on him. I’m betting that she confesses by the end of today. What do you think?”

“Huh? Why should I care?”

“Why not? Aren’t you his friend?”

“I guess…” It felt weird revealing to a stranger the nature of his relationship with Kise. They weren’t close childhood friends, particularly since Kise was more of a nuisance back then. And now… Daiki guessed he could call the blonde his friend, but that word didn’t feel right.

“Then is he single?” The curiosity in her tone made him want to barf. Shifting away from the overeager female, he pondered the question, shrugging.

“Don’t know. We don’t really talk much.” At most they talked, played, and argued about basketball. Who the best team was, the best players, and predictions of the upcoming season. Sometimes they would talk about their work lives, but that was minimal at best. Kise even talked more about the past they had spent as middle and high schoolers than about his work in the States.

Daiki knew nearly nothing about Kise’s private life. Satsuki had mentioned a few things in passing, but he hadn’t been interested. It didn’t seem like Kise was seeing anyone – the model would have mentioned otherwise – but that didn’t stop the small pang of hurt in his chest. Glaring at the bottle in his hand, he concluded the feeling was simply him feeling upset since Kise dating someone would mean less time for one-on-ones.

“Well then, for Kara’s sake, I hope he’s single.”

“Sure, whatever.”

 

“Aominecchi, having fun?” Looking up, Daiki scowled as Kise sat next to him, popping a nacho into his mouth as he did so.

“Who knows,” he shrugged, ignoring the persistent stare from those golden eyes. He could feel Anna looking at him from afar with s strange light in her eyes. The redheaded friend she mentioned who had a crush on Kise was nowhere to be found.

“You’re no fun, Aominecchi.” Kise frowned, and then brightened up once more. “Guess what!”

“What?”

“I got confessed to today!”

“Then what are you doing sitting with me?” He growled low; sick of the conversation about Kise’s love life. And said individual telling him about it irritated him more than it should have. Kise didn’t have come over here to rub it in his face. “Shouldn’t you be with her?”

“Aominecchi…” the blonde whined, not giving up. “I said that someone confessed to me, not that I accepted.”

“Why not?” As relieved as he was to hear the piece of news, he was confused why Kise would have turned down such a hot date. He only remembered the redhead because of her fiery hair and she was a looker. He certainly would have said yes, if not for a good fuck. “She was hot.”

“How do you know who I’m talking about?” Those brows furrowed in confusion.

“The redhead? Ka-something? With big boobs?”

“You and your boob fetish… how did you kno– never mind. You think I should have said yes?” There was a hurt tone in Kise’s question and he shrugged.

“Sure, I don’t really care. Your love life is none of my business.”

“So I see… I’ll just tell her yes then.” As Kise was getting up, Daiki’s hand shot out, gripping the blonde’s wrist and tugged him back down. “Aominecchi?”

“What are you, stupid? You’re just going to say yes, because I said so?”

“No, I’m not that stupid Aho-mine.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“It’s none of your business.” The blonde parroted, sitting back down with a small pout. “It’s not like you care much anyways, Aho-minecchi.”

“What’s with you today, Kise?”

“With me? What’s with _you_? Since when did you care that much about my private life?”

Before they could continue ranting and raving at one another, the director came around with a big smile. The tension in Kise left immediately as the blonde switched into his business mask to face the man in charge.

“Daiki! Ryouta! Thank you so much again for agreeing to this…”

 

“Oi, pretty boy.” Nudging the drunkard, there was a gentle snore as Kise dozed off, leaning against his shoulder. Daiki didn’t know why or how he had suddenly become the one to bring his drunken friend home. The blonde had been okay for the most part, smiling a little too brightly and laughing a little louder than usual, until the partygoers had slowly left. When he mentioned he was leaving, Kise had mentioned wanting to go as well. They had barely walked a block when Kise had stumbled against him, reeking of alcohol, and refusing to let go. It was supposed to be that glassed manager of Kise’s who would take care of him, but the man wasn’t picking up his phone. The blonde should have known better too. “Wake up, we’re here.”

After a protest or two, he finally roused Kise enough to drag the blonde out of the taxi and into his building. The doorman paused and did a double-take upon seeing him with another person, but opened the door nonetheless and waved Daiki through.

“Hehe, I get’ta see Aominecchiii’s apartment!”

“Shut up, Kise.”

“Aominecchiiii… so meeaan…” Kise complained in a singsong voice. Daiki gritted his teeth, guiding the blonde out of the elevator after it pinged close. For someone so slim, his former teammate still weighed a ton. Kise was like deadweight as they trudged down the hallway. It wasn’t that long of a journey either.

“Fo’r oh fiiiveee… fo’r oh siixx… fo’r oh se’en…” The manner in which Kise was reading the apartment numbers was starting to irritate him, but he wasn’t that mean as to abandon his former teammate in the middle of the hallway. Stopping by his door, he struggled to find his keys while holding to Kise. “Teehee… fo’r ten! Aominecchiii’s in fo’r ten!”

“Shut up, or I’ll leave you outside, Kise.”

“Too bad! I know where Aominecchi lives now!” For a lump of deadweight, Kise seemed to reanimate as he swung the door open and flicked the lights on.

Briefly debating whether to it was worth it urging Kise to take a shower, Daiki decided on the easier option. Even if Kise complained about feeling gross the next day, it was better than having Kise fall and hit his head on the tiles. Guiding the blonde to the living room – there was no way Kise was going to sleep on his bed – it was rather easy as Kise fell into a horizontal heap on the sofa.

Rising up to grab something to cover Kise up, a hand grasped out and held him in place.

“No… don’t go. I missed you, Aominecchi…”

Daiki froze at those words, whispered in Japanese. There was something else after that, but he couldn’t quite make it out over the hum of the air conditioning. His heard was strangely warm, beating faster than usual. Shaking off the odd sensation, he freed himself from the irksome blonde’s hold.


	10. Crossroads again

**_Love is like war: easy to begin but very hard to stop. ~ H. L. Mencken_ **

 

Ryouta was momentarily confused when he woke up with a nasty pounding in his head. Where was he?

He certainly wasn’t in the apartment Matsuo had set up for him. And this certainly wasn’t a hotel since he could see a half-full bottle of soda in what looked to be the kitchen. Ryouta sincerely hoped that he hadn’t done something stupid while drunk.

The last thing the model remembered was going out drinking to commemorate the successful commercial shoot. His agent had mentioned if all went well, more work might be pouring in. After that, he had gone to hallway to take the call from his boss telling him that they were seeing if they could run the same thing in Japan. That was when some sweet-smelling redhead… Kara had asked him out. Ryouta remembered turning her down before returning and drinking some more with Aomine.

Staggering onto his feet, he headed for the kitchen and rummaged the cupboards for a glass. After chugging a cup of water, he was feeling better. The pounding in his skull hadn’t vanished, but at least he wasn’t as dehydrated anymore.

Refilling his glass, he walked back to the living room. A survey of the interior revealed nothing much except that the owner liked basketball, evidenced by the ball in the corner, and loved junk food. The basketball wasn’t unusual since the shoot he had just been was for basketball shoes, but there was something eerily familiar with that _particular_ object. Unfortunately, the headache prevented him from recalling exactly where he remembered it from.

Sitting down on the sofa he awoke on, Ryouta was wondering what to do when he heard something vibrate somewhere near him. Rapidly standing up, he pulled off the thin blanket, looking for his phone. He finally found it wedged between two cushions of the sofa.

“Hello?”

“Kise-san? Oh, thank god!” The relieved sound of his agent came through the earpiece.

“Matsuo-san?”

“Where are you now, Kise-san?”

“I’m not too sure.” He looked around the room, searching for something to indicate the identity of the owner, but there was nothing. Ryouta could make out the worried muttering of his agent on the other end. Having no recollection of what had happened after he rejoined the crew for drinks, the man had every right to be worried. He would definitely be getting a scolding when he got home.

The model hadn’t been found in any compromising situation for several years now and the last thing they wanted was for a scandal to happen while he was abroad. The whole trip could be cancelled and he might be immediately recalled to Japan. His instincts told him it wasn’t that bad; he had woken up on a sofa with all his clothes intact. It was likelier that one of the crew members had brought him to their home.

Ignoring his current situation – Ryouta figured he would work it out after his head felt a little better – he changed the topic. “Why are you trying to call me?”

“Kise Ryouta! You know better than to get drunk.”

“I know, I know. You can lecture me later.” Normally, he only drank enough to get lightly buzzed. Ryouta suspected it had something to a certain basketball pro egging him.

“I’ve been trying to reaching you for the last hour to inform you that we’re green-lit for the commercial in Japan.”

“That’s fantastic.”

“Why don’t you come to the office Monday? We can go over the details then.”

“Sure.”

Before the conversation could continue, the bedroom door opened to reveal a messy-haired and chest-naked Aomine.

“Aominecchi?!” Kise couldn’t believe he was at his former teammate’s apartment. “Ow…”  Unfortunately he forgotten he was hung over and the loud noise cost him.

“Not so loud, pretty boy.” Aomine grimaced, rubbing his face.

“Kise-san? Are you still there?” His agent’s voice came through the phone.

“Oh, sorry Matsuo. I’m at Aominecchi’s home right now. I’ll call you later.”

“Aomine-san? Your former–” Before the agent could continue lecturing him about dos and don’ts, he hung up. Right now he needed to talk to Aominecchi and figure out what happened yesterday.

When he put the phone back down, Aomine had vanished into the bathroom. Ryouta made out the sounds of water and a minute later, a refreshed-looking dark-haired male came back out.

“Oi, Kise. Catch.”  A white bottle sailed through the air. Instinctively, he reached out and grabbed the projectile. Upon reading the label, he popped it open and took two of the white pills, following it up with water.

“Thanks, Aominecchi.” It would take a couple of minutes for the aspirin to kick in, but it was better than suffering through his hang over without anything.

“Want anything?”

“No, I was just going to ask you what happened and then go.” He needed to shower and change his clothes.

“Suit yourself.” Ryouta watched as Aomine opened the bottle of coke and drank directly out of it.

“Ew, don’t do that Aominecchi!”

“Stop being such a girl, Kise. I’m the only one that lives here anyways.”

“Fine, do whatever you want, Aho-mine.”

“So what do you want to know?”

“What happened last night?”

“Nothing really.” There was a careless shrug as Aomine looked through his kitchen. “You came over and we drank. I didn’t even know you were wasted until it was time to leave. You were all clingy and weird and I didn’t know where you lived, so I brought you here.”

“Ah, I see.” Ryouta sincerely hoped that was it. He had a feeling that he had forgotten something important, but it might have just been his overactive imagination. “Thank you for taking care of me, Aominecchi.”

“Whatever. Try not to get so drunk next time, pretty boy.”

“Don’t be so mean, Aominecchi! Why can’t I drink with my favorite basketball player? Is there something you’re not telling me?” He teased.

“No,” Aomine scowled, “just watch the amount you’re drinking, baka-Kise. It’s a pain in the ass taking care of you.”

“Geez, Aominecchi. Stop acting like my mom and lighten up. I wouldn’t have gotten so drunk if it wasn’t for you in the first place.”

“Tch, don’t blame it all on me, pretty boy.”

“Well it’s true, Aho-mine. I never drink that much.”

It was very easy and fun falling back into a familiar back and forth banter with Aomine. It reminded Ryouta of _why_ he had fallen in love with the stupid jerk so many years ago. He was different now, but it was difficult _not_ to resurrect those emotions. The last couple of days playing ball while being filmed were the same. He was able to stay focused given all the cameras pointing at them, but it was impossible _not_ to be drawn in by Aomine’s sleek, powerful play. The man was a force of nature and Ryouta was easily swept away like a cloud on the wind.

“Hey, since I’m already here, why don’t you show me your place, Aominecchi? I’ll do the same when you come over next time!” Ryouta was dying of curiosity to know what the rest of the place looked like. Who knew when he would come here again? It was a rare opportunity to see inside Aomine’s life.

From what he had already seen, the kitchen and living room were fairly standard. There were few personal belongings aside from the basketball, but no photos and was oddly tidy for Aomine. He expected it to be way messier and things to be lying all over the place. That was the impression he had back from their school days.

“Why would I want to see your apartment, pretty boy?”

“Why not? Pleeasssee, Aominecchi! We’re friends, right?” He saw a small muscle twitch on his former teammates face at the mention of being friends. “Pleeaaaassee…” he wheedled.

“There’s nothing much to see, idiot.”

“But I still want to see it?” he cocked his head and beamed a smile at the tanned male.

Aomine finally seemed to get that Ryouta wouldn’t stop asking until his request was satisfied. “Fine, whatever. The sooner I show you, the sooner you leave.”

“Yay! I could hug you right now, Aominecchi!” He moved quickly towards the other male with his arms outstretched.

“Wh – Kise?!” Aomine was staring at him with a look between a cross of horror and surprise. Finally, when they were less than a foot apart, Ryouta broke away and clapped the man on his back. The action jerked him out of his reverie.

“You really thought I was going to hug you, Aominecchi? You’re such an Aho-mine.” Ryouta laughed, not because of Aomine’s reaction, but mainly to hide his own warring desires.

“Shut up, baka-Kise. Do you want to see the apartment or not?”

Eagerly trailing behind the younger male, Ryouta was again pleasantly surprised to find the common areas and bathroom in better shape than he expected. “How do you keep it so clean?” As a middle and high schooler, Aomine was the type never to care about such things.

“Someone comes and cleans it every week.”

“I see. What about your bedroom?”

“The hell is wrong with you, Kise? Wanting to see my bedroom?”

“There’s nothing wrong with me, Aominecchi! Why are you being so mean? I just want to see your place! It’s not like I’ve seen it before.”

 

Leading Kise through his apartment, not that it was anything particularly fascinating, was weird. Thankfully the housekeeper had come two days ago and tidied things up; otherwise, things would have been much messier. He hadn’t been home much either, and only to sleep, so things were generally where they were supposed to be.

Daiki had troubles falling asleep the previous night. The softly spoken words Kise had said kept echoing in his mind on repeat. Over and over and over again. Nonstop. He was tempted to get his hearing checked. There was no way Kise had just said “I missed you” in that breathless tone that seemed to imply something else. Perhaps he had been hearing things, he _had_ drunk quite a bit, Daiki’s mind did not want to let go of the small revelation.

Instead of the vague faceless bodies, there was only one which haunted his night. Kise’s.

And to have to wake up and deal with Kise now was something he wasn’t ready for. Between the hang over and the lack of caffeine, his mind was still playing a desperate game of catch up. For someone that was on the verge of death last night – thank god Kise hadn’t thrown up on him – the blonde was faring remarkably well.

“Is this your bedroom, Aominecchi? It’s bigger than I imagined!”

The blonde exclaimed, immediately running to admire the widescreen TV mounted against the wall and the giant king-sized bed he had. Daiki wasn’t particularly interested in material goods. What mattered was playing basketball. The main thing he did at home was catch up on sleep, sometimes watch the TV or browse the internet, but that was about it. He didn’t cook, preferring to eat outside or order takeout.

And he didn’t bring many people to his condo. The less people who knew where he lived, the better. One of his teammates, Josh, had gotten stalked by and ex and things had gotten pretty ugly. The man had to file a restraining order and had walked around with a body guard for the better part of six months. Hell, Kise was the first ‘guest’ Daiki had had over in nearly a year. The last people to come were his team manager and coach, and that was while he was injured to make sure he was getting the proper rest.

“So where are you hiding it?”

“Hiding what?”

“Your Horikita Mai collection! I know you have one.”

“As if I’m going to tell you.” He didn’t really need magazines these days. If he wanted sex, it was simple enough to go down to a bar, chat up some chick, and bring her to a hotel. There were probably a few magazines still lying around, but nothing aside from an infernally irritating blond model was able to keep his attention.

“Aominecchi!” Kise puffed up his cheeks in feigned indignation. It was becoming on such a face, but Daiki found it almost _cute._

“Now that you’ve seen my room, tour’s over.” He ushered Kise out before things could get even weirder. It was enough that he had shown his bedroom to Kise; Daiki had never shown his bedroom to anyone except the cleaning lady and Satsuki over the webcam, but that because she would just force her way in otherwise. There was never a need to show anyone else his private living space.

“Oh, come on, Aominecchi!”

“Kise…”

“Fine.”

He led the way, feeling Kise fume behind him. It wasn’t as if he was under any obligation to reveal his private life to his _former_ teammate. Just because they had been friends of a sort back in Teito and rivals in high school didn’t mean he need to share everything with Kise.

He automatically headed towards the living room, instinctively remembering the small step from the hallway to the living room. A moment later, he remembered about the stumbling hazard. Turning around, he opened his mouth to warn Kise, but it was too late.

“Watch ou–!”

Daiki barely had his arms out before Kise tripped, letting out a loud squawk as he fell forward with his arms windmilling in the air. The blonde’s momentum carried them both to the ground, and he landed on his ass with a dull thud. “Shit that hurt.”

When he opened his eyes again, he could see the crown of golden hair. One of his arms was wrapped around the blonde’s waist and Kise’s face was buried in his chest. The rest of their limbs were sprawled out and tangled together. Daiki should have been grossed out having another male in his arms, particularly one with decent muscle mass and no boobs, but he wasn’t. Kise’s body was clearly hard and defined from all the basketball, yet the waist in his arm was thinner than Daiki had imagined. And the scent coming from Kise wasn’t all that unpleasant.

There was a groan and the model shifted, lifting his head up and staring at him with those golden eyes. It threw him off to see that face so close to him. He had seen Kise so many times in person, but this was the first time had seen the blonde so close. A scant few inches closer and their faces would be next to one another. Maybe it was an effect of being hung over or perhaps it was because he had never been in an enclosed space with Kise before, but he felt his heart racing.

It was clear why Kise was one of the world’s top models. There were no blemishes or wrinkles on that face, and even if Daiki only batted for the other side, Kise _was_ attractive. There was a stirring of arousal in his gut as he stared at those features, making out each and every eyelash as the blonde blinked. A faint flush lit up those porcelain cheeks, and his attention was immediately drawn by the pink lips opening just a fraction.

There was a familiar stirring in his gut as he stared longer at the flushed expression on Kise’s face.

Fuck, Daiki was so fucking screwed.

 

“Umm, sorry about that.” Pushing against that tanned chest, Ryouta awkwardly got up. All he had wanted to do was run his hands on those hard contours and kiss Aomine’s frowning visage. He had seen Aomine’s skin before many times, but being so close and touching it was another story. He had expected Aomine to push him off immediately and make some joke of it, but he hadn’t. The way the basketball addict had stared at him almost made him believe that something _was_ possible between the two of them. But Aomine was straight as an arrow and would never consider a male partner.

“Yeah, sure.” Aomine’s eyes didn’t meet his as he stood up, brushing himself down. “No problem.”

“Well, I should go…” he said, rubbing a hand behind his head to hide his embarrassment. If it were possible, he would have wanted to lie there for a long time, but Ryouta knew it was a futile dream. “I need to go home and change and stuff.” He asked lamely, trying to calm the rapid beating of his heart.

“The closest train is a couple of blocks down. Need directions?”

“No, I’ll just call a taxi.” Patting his pockets down, he realized he had his phone but not his money. “Do you know where my wallet is?”

“Yeah, it’s with your coat. One sec.” Aomine came back a moment later with his jacket in one hand. “Here.”

“Thanks.” Making sure his wallet and keys were still there, Ryouta headed for the door, slipping on his shoes. “Umm… so, I’ll text you later, Aominecchi?” Even if those sprouting feelings of his would never be reciprocated, the bittersweet sensation was something Ryouta had grown accustomed to, he could at least spend time with Aomine. “Let’s play basketball again sometime.”

“Sure. Whatever you want.”

“Okay, thanks again for everything! Let me know when you want to visit and I’ll give you the grand tour!”

“Whatever.”

“Bye, Aominecchi.”

“Later.”

Donning his cheerful mask, Ryouta waved as he walked out and towards the elevator. The moment he heard the door shut behind him, he released his fake smile and breathed in deeply. He had sworn never to fall for Aomine again, it would only result in heartbreak, but it was happening once more.

 

“Fuck.” Daiki lightly punched the door, after it was closed. He could still feel Kise in his arms, looking up with that slightly dazed look. The way the blonde’s cheeks were flushed, lips parted a fraction, and breathing heavily, were like the ones in his imagination. The only difference was that those dreams had nothing on reality. Having the living, breathing thing in his arms was like a nuclear bomb. Had Kise not gotten up first, he might have just lain there, staring at the blonde.

He had had his fair share of sex partners and there was no doubt given what had just transpired that he was attracted to Kise. However the hell that had happened. But the incessant need to spend time with the annoying blonde was another conundrum altogether. Or the fact he had been annoyed that Kise had purposely bragged to him about being asked out.

Daiki would never claim to be the smartest person out there, but even he wasn’t stupid enough to not understand what was happening to him. Chalk it up to spending too much time to Satsuki and her incessant chattering about shit he didn’t want to hear. If he could erase the revelation from his mind he would, but it was lodged in his brain, refusing to leave.

A familiar annoying ringtone pierced the air. Satsuki. The last thing he needed was his pink-haired childhood friend interrogating him for more news on Kise. Or on what was happening between him and Kise. It was difficult enough dealing with what had just happened. There was no point in adding more fuel to the fire.

Ignoring the call, Daiki walked into his fridge to grab a beer. After what had just happened, he desperately needed the alcohol.


	11. Feelings Again

**_“You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.” – Dr. Seuss_ **

Ryouta mulled over an earlier conversation he had with one his makeup artists as he walked towards the meeting place for his next game with Aomine,

_“Hey Ryouta?”_

_“Yes?”_

_“Don’t you ever feel weird calling Daiki by his last name? Or is there some weird reason you guys do it?”_

Over the years as an internationally acclaimed model, he had grown used to different people addressing him by either his first or last name. To this day, though, only a few of them had ever warranted him adding “cchi” to their names. Aomine Daiki was one of those special few.

It was a commonplace thing in Japan to address one by their surname, and slowly switch over onto a first name standard over time, but they never had. Ryouta had tried his best to get into Aomine’s inner circle, but it was difficult maintaining that friendship when they were younger. He only knew of two people that ever called Aomine by his first name: Momoi Satsuki and Seijuurou Akashi. Aomine was childhood friends with the pink-haired lady and the red eyed Emperor was just eccentric.

In some ways addressing Aomine Daiki as ‘Aominecchi’ was as much for his own protection as it was a safe fallback. Just the thought of addressing Aominecchi by anything more intimate such as ‘Daiki’ or “Daikicchi’ sent rational thought into a downward spiral.

“Daikicchi…” he whispered to himself. The nervous thudding of his heart grew greater as he silently rolled the cacophonic k and c sounds along his tongue.  Although it was still nerve-wracking, he repeated the name several more times, liking how it sounded on his tongue.

It had been a week since he saw his former teammate, but in that week, the reaction Aomine had when he had tripped was one Ryouta never expected the tanned male to have. In the past, Aomine had always pushed him away even for something as tame as a hug, and there he was lying on top of the man! He had felt the younger male’s rapid heartbeat under his palms, but unlike his own, it was likely more from shock and falling down than arousal and nervousness.

Crossing the street, he eyed the tanned male already on the court shooting hoops.  Breathing in deeply, Ryouta willed himself to be calm. That was the only way he was going to survive this unscathed.

Pasting on his signature smile, he jogged the last couple of feet, waving as he did. “Aominecchi!”

“What took you so long, Kise?”

“Sorry, the shoot took a little longer than I thought.” Throwing his stuff on the bench, he pulled out and changed into his basketball shoes.

 

“Lemme call you by your first name, Aominecchi!”

“Huh?”

“Can I call you Daikicchi? It’s kind of weird calling you Aominecchi when I talk to people at work; everyone gets confused.”

Blue eyes gazed at him intensely for a moment before Aomine shrugged. “Do whatever you want. I don’t care.”

“Thank you, Daikicchi! You can also call me Ryouta.”

“I’ll call you whatever I want, pretty boy.”

“Daikicchi!” Despite his protest, Ryouta had never been happier addressing Aomine by his first name. His face cracked in a large smile as he stole the ball and dribbled it towards the net.

 

Daiki wanted to bang his head on the court floor. What had he been thinking when he agreed to let Kise call him by his first name?

He had been blinded by the brilliant smile the model had levelled at him. And now Daiki was stuck dealing with the bloody consequences of that decision. Too mesmerized by Kise’s joyous expression, it took him a moment too long to realize the blonde had stolen the ball from him. Crap.

Dashing forward with a sudden surge of strength, he jumped to try and block Kise from scoring. He felt the ball brush his fingers, but a metallic clang later, it went in.

 

* * *

 

_They continued to play basketball like it was the good old days. One stealing it from the other, and the other blocking. Dribbling it down the court and trying to shoot hoops._

_But it wasn’t. Not really._

_For one, they were both vastly better than a decade ago. After several months of one-on-ones, the blond model had finally regained his skills and could provide a decent challenge for NBA pro._

_But two, and more importantly, they had come to know what that rush of excitement underneath the adrenaline was. The fierce competition was certainly a large constituent of that, but below the surface was something else and they both knew it was there. Having lived an extra ten odd years just made it easier to hide and stow those thoughts away._

_And sometimes, just sometimes… a crack forms on the seal one uses to hide the truth. A tiny hairline fracture enough to tilt their fates in one direction or another._

 

* * *

 

Breathing heavily, Daiki doused his head in water, feeling the cool liquid refresh him momentarily. Looking sideways, he saw that Kise was similarly fatigued. The blond’s head was bent forward, droplets of sweat dripping down his back and arms.

They had barely played for thirty minutes and they were both wiped. Daiki judged himself as maybe having ten or less minutes left in him before he needed to stop. Normally he could play for more than an hour, but the brutal New York heat had sapped all his strength.

And if they stopped now, he wouldn’t be able to see Kise until the next one-on-one. The thought of that made his chest ache.

“Ready to continue, Daikicchi?”

“One sec.” The infernal heat was giving him a headache, but he wouldn’t back down now. Gulping down half a bottle, Daiki shook the remaining water out of his hair. Something came to mind as he did. “Why don’t we up the stakes?”

“What are you suggesting, Daikicchi?” There was a befuddled expression on Kise’s face as he tilted his head.

“Are you busy afterwards?”

“Nope! I have something tomorrow, but nothing tonight.”

“Then…” a small smile formed on his face at the thought, “If I win, you’ll buy me dinner. And if you do,” which Kise obviously wouldn’t, “I’ll do the same.”

“Are you asking me to pay for your food…?” The way Kise narrowed his eyes suspiciously made Daiki want to burst out laughing. So he wasn’t the only one expecting that Kise would lose.

“Why not? You make a shit ton of money modelling. You could at least treat me sometime.” He teased the blonde. He could just as easily pay for his own dinner, but it was amusing seeing Kise with his hands on his hips and cheeks puffed out in indignation.

“You make more than I do, Daikicchi! And you still owe me for the ice cream from Teiko!”

“C’mon, Ryouta,” he purposely called Kise by his name to taunt the blonde more. The reaction was instantaneous. Kise’s eyes widened and an ‘o’ of surprised formed on his lips. “…Are you saying you’ll lose?”

The moment immediately vanished as Kise made a move to grab the ball, but Daiki was ready and immediately dribbled away. “Shut up, Ahomine!”

“So do you agree?” He lazily asked lazily, deftly switching the ball behind his body from left to right, dodging Kise’s attempts to knock it out of his hands.

“Fine!”

 

Fifteen minutes later, Ryouta was beat. He was completely and utterly wiped out. And the stupid NBA pro had, as expected, won.

“So where do you want to go…?” He grumbled, sitting on the bench.

“Go for what?”

“Dinner.” _Stupid Aomin – no, Daikicchi._ Ryouta thought to himself.

The moment Aomine had used his first name, he had froze. The only thought that registered had been the fact that Aomine _had_ addressed him so intimately without any honorifics. Only the closest friends or lovers did that. _Stupid Ryouta_ , he berated himself for being caught up in such fantasies.

“What about the new seafood place near the river? I think Pete called it The Something Grill…”

“The Waterside Grill?” One of his coworkers had mentioned it in passing. It had opened two months ago and had rave reviews ever since.

“Yeah that one.”

“We don’t have a reservation and aren’t dressed for it.” Ryouta rolled his eyes. There was no way he was going to such a high end restaurant reeking of sweat and dust. “And why that place anyways?”

“Dunno. Pete just said his date there went really well.”

“D-d-date?!” Ryouta spun his head around so quickly he almost gave himself whiplash. “Since when was this a date?!”

“Tsk, it’s not. I was referring to the food, dumbass.” His heart immediately plummeted at the rejection. Of course it wasn’t a date. It was just Aomine being stupid and saying something misleading.

Today had been a day of constant surprises and so far his emotions were going haywire. One moment he was happy and the next he was depressed. Of course Aomine didn’t mean to date him. But he couldn’t help asking.

Not to seem overly upset, he pouted lightly, trying to one-up Aomine. “So mean… so I’m not pretty enough for a date?”

“What the hell, Kise?” The tanned male was taken aback at him, gazing at him with a weird light in his eyes. Ryouta tried deciphering it, but it was impossible.

“You were the one that brought up dating in the first place, Daikicchi.” He crossed his arms trying to act put-off. “And you don’t even like me that much.”

“Stop whining, Kise.”

“I’m not.”

“Ugh. Fine, I’ll go with you on a _date_ or whatever you want to call it.” The tanned male groaned. Ryouta couldn’t help the small grin that escaped at the thought that they were going on a date, even if it really wasn’t one in the truest sense. “You’re still paying though.”

“Daikicchi!”

“What?” The signature smug look was back on Aomine’s face “You lost. Fair and square.”

“Fine.” Kise huffed. “But I need to shower and change first.”

 

“Aominecchi! You owe me one now!”

“You were the one that lost, pretty boy.” He smirked at Kise.

“You had an unfair advantage.” The blonde crossed off and stomped towards the river.

Stretching his back out, Daiki stared at the water. The sun was just beginning to set when they left the restaurant, dying the river in magnificent orange. The blistering heat had died down and it was now comfortably warm. Walking the few feet to where Kise was standing, enjoying the feel of salty breeze of the river wash across on his face as he did. “Want to go for a walk?”

“Sure.”

Daiki snuck a glance at his companion as they began to walk in silence. Kise was normally very chatty, but this tranquil atmosphere wasn’t bad either. They ended up going somewhere in Brooklyn for dinner, but it was still pretty good. It wasn’t the star of the dinner in his mind, though.

He had always known that the blonde cleaned up nicely – how else would Kise have become a model? – but everything took on a different light after he had admitted to himself that he found his former teammate sexually attractive. The atmosphere at dinner, with a tiny candle and a flower centerpiece on the table between them, was almost intimate. Had it not been for explicit declaration that this was not a real date, he might have almost believed it to be true.

He had never felt like this with anyone. It was a mix of nervousness, fun, and contentment. Unlike other dates he had gone on, Daiki didn’t need to pretend or lavish compliments on Kise. Their friendship had gone through enough hardship for them to be openly frank without fear of censure. He had been his genuine self, and so had Kise, which might have been why he felt the way he did. That was what it more _real_.

Daiki had no idea why out of all people, it was Kise Ryouta who elicited such a mix of emotions from him. It hadn’t been enough that the blonde disrupted his sleep, but now his waking moments as well. Even watching porn hadn’t been enough to wipe the feel of Kise’s body pressed up against his from his mind.And after today’s not-really-real date, he really didn’t know what to do.

“This is nice, Daikicchi.” A light hum came from the blonde beside him.

“Yeah.” _It really was._

A catchy phone ring from Kise’s pocket interrupted the serenity. “Sorry, work.”

Daiki heard the hushed words being spoken, paying them little heed. Most of the time if there was something difficult that needed to be thought out, which was almost never, he turned to basketball as a means of relaxation. But right now, all it did was make him wish that he was playing another one-on-one with the golden-haired model.

He had never fallen in love. In lust, definitely. But among all the women he had dated, slept with, or even been interested in, he had never really liked them as individuals that much. They were soft and rounded and he loved the sex, but they always wanted and expected more. Whether it was money, his time, or affection, Daiki had never felt anything but physical attraction.

With Kise, the allure was more than physical. He would have been revolted if it had been merely physical. For some inexplicable reason, he _enjoyed_ Kise’s presence. The one-on-ones, the joking and teasing, and even reminiscing about their Teiko experiences. As annoying as the blonde often was, he never actually hated Kise _per se_. If anything, Daiki would consider his feelings towards Kise as more of liking than anything.

“Next Wednesday? Okay…” Another snippet of conversation drifted towards him, reminding him that Kise had other things on his plate as well. At most they saw each other two to three times a week for basketball and sometimes food. It wasn’t nearly enough to satiate his desire for the other man’s time.

“Got it. See you tomorrow.” Kise wandered back with an apologetic smile. “That was Matsuo.”

“Another gig?”

“Another few actually. The head office is thinking of keeping me here for another year if everything goes well.”

“That’s great.” Daiki replied offhandedly. It was great Kise was getting more work and might stay here for another few months, but it also decreased the chances of meeting up for one-on-ones.

“Thanks Daikicchi!” Kise made a sudden move as if to thank him, before backing off and rubbing his head sheepishly.

He knew that the blonde held some degree of affection for him. Whether it was respect, friendship, or something more, Daiki wasn’t sure. But if Satsuki’s hunch was correct, and it often was, then Kise’s feelings were less than pure. If so, there really wasn’t anything holding either of them back.

Maybe it was the bottle of wine they had shared, but before Daiki could help it – thinking had never been his strong suit anyways – he blurted a question he wasn’t sure he had been prepared to ask.

“Hey, Kise, go out with me.”


	12. Confessions Again

_**‘Tis better to have loved and lost** _  
_**Than never to have loved at all.** _  
_**~Lord Alfred Tennyson** _

 

He couldn’t have heard correctly, right?

“Sorry, did I mishear something?” Ryouta pasted his fake smile, trying to disguise the rapid thudding in his heart. Everything this night, even the fact he had lost the ball game and paid for dinner, had been magical. It was like the date he never had, but yearned for. “Did Daikicchi just ask me out?”

“Yeah.” There was an annoyed scowl on the tanned male’s face. Aomine’s face was averted, one hand scratching the back of his head as if trying to appear less embarrassed at the whole situation. There was a slight darkening on his face that was difficult to see with the way light was currently falling on his visage. “So… your answer?”

“But…” Ryouta wasn’t sure what to say. Outwardly he kept his business smile pasted to his face, pretending that his former teammate had not just dropped a nuke and turned his life upside down. As much as he wanted to leap up and accept, it was likely one of Aomine’s ill-thought out ideas. Ryouta had learned the hard way that things which seemed too good to be true were generally just that: too good to be true.

“Aominecchi,” he immediately reverted back to his previous manner of addressing his crush, hoping it might put some distance between them, “isn’t gay. You kept talking about ‘Mai-chan’ back in school.”

He remembered with crystal clarity how obsessed his friend had been with Horikita Mai and other gravure models. It had stung, but Aomine had never shown interest in his magazines unless said personages were present. However, knowing it wasn’t that Aomine wasn’t paying attention onto him, but completely uninterested in pop culture had helped alleviate some of that ache. Thinking back on it, Momoicchi was probably correct in teasing him about his crush on their mutual friend.

“Yeah… so what?”

“Then why…?”

“Why what?” The tanned male looked confused as he furrowed his brow.

“Why are you asking me?” Ryouta’s heart screamed out for him to accept, but he couldn’t do so without being absolutely certain. Certain that he wasn’t setting himself up for impending heartbreak. Aomine might have simply asked him because he couldn’t hold his alcohol. Come tomorrow, the man would just regret everything and want to call it off. As much as Ryouta loved the idea of dating and being with Aomine, he was even more fearful of beginning a relationship with his former teammate only to break up and lose his friendship with Aomine as well.

“Hell, I dunno.”  The basketball player scratched his head. “I just thought…”

“Thought what?” Ryouta prompted, waiting for more to come. But the remainder of the statement simply drifted into nothingness. That was the exact problem. How could he agree to date someone who wasn’t even sure _why_ he had asked him out?

“…do you like me, Ao – Daikicchi?” he inquired hesitatingly after a pregnant pause. The question might very well backfire, but the stubborn shard of hope that there _might_ be something between them refused to be dislodged. Though Aomine had never been good with words to begin with, Ryouta didn’t think Aomine would be crazy enough to ask him out without some basis.

When the only reply was the sounds of cars in the background, Ryouta felt some of that hope ebb away. It was a deluded, foolish hope after all. He opened his mouth to confirm his suspicions, but Aomine beat him to it. “I don’t know how I feel.”

“Daikicchi?”

“I don’t dislike you, but I don’t know if I like you either…” The words sounded strangely thought out for once.

“What do you mean?” Ryouta hadn’t expected any declarations of undying love or eternal devotion, but he _had_ hoped for something a little more concrete and less wishy-washy.

“Ughh… I know I like you as a friend, but I don’t know if I like you like _that_.”

“Oh.” What was he supposed to say to that?

But the basketball player wasn’t finished apparently.

“You’re like a stupid cockroach that doesn’t die.” Ryouta was taken aback at the comparison. He had been called many things, but one of those creepy insects had never been one of them. “It’s like you’re everywhere… and well, yeah…”

“I’m not a cockroach, Daikicchi.”

“I know you’re not.” There was a frustrated groan as Aomine scratched his head. “Christ. I meant you’re everywhere in my life. I keep thinking of you. It’s like fucking nonstop. Damn it, Kise. Hell, you’re even in my dreams.”

“Your dreams…?” the blond repeated hollowly, disbelieving what he had just heard. There was no way his socially and emotionally stunted friend had just said that. Was Aomine even aware of how much that sounded like a declaration of love?

“Yeah.” There was a mild flush on tanned skin as Aomine averted his eyes slightly.

Ryouta frowned at his friend-slash-crush’s behavior. What dream could have caused such a strange reaction? He had dreamed of beating Aomine on the court one day, and even if the Aomine had dreamed the reverse, Ryouta doubted it would cause such a reaction. “What were you dreaming of?”

“That’s not important right now.” His former teammate scowled. “So will you…?”

“Can you even kiss _me_?” Ryouta challenged. It was one thing for Aomine’s thoughts to be dominated by thoughts of him – his high school years had been driven by the desire to win his former teammate – and another thing to desire more than just companionship. To the best of his (and Momoicchi’s) knowledge, Aomine was as straight as a line. He was into basketball and big-breasted females. “I’m not a girl, Daikicchi.”

“I know that, baka-Kise.”

“So can you?”

“…yes.” The word seemed unwillingly wrenched from Aomine’s mouth.

“Liar.” Ryouta shot back.

“I’m not lying!” Aomine’s face was contorted in an angry frown. “I’ll prove it to you.”

“No.” As much as he yearned for it, a kiss made to prove a point was worthless. They both knew that.

“Damn it, what do you want me to do then? Call you by your name?” Tha tanned male was bursting with frustration. “Will you go out with me, _Ryouta_?”

The sound of Aomine addressing him so intimately was the last straw. No one else could carry him up to such thrilling heights and then make it all plummet down to nothingness. It had already been difficult holding back his emotions today. Calling Aomine ‘Daikicchi.’ Going on a not-really-a-date date. Walking along the river. Being asked out was the last thing he expected, but being asked out by _Aomine Daiki_ while said man addressed him as ‘Ryouta’ was even less expected.

Ryouta loathed how weak he was to the sound of his name being called out by his former crush. Having his given name called out wasn’t anything special – most people he worked with and many fans did so – but hearing Aomine say it was another thing altogether. His lips had unconsciously pursed into a small ‘o’ of surprise, one that he ruthlessly suppressed.

But more than his feelings of longing, Ryouta hated how unaffected the other male was at his struggle. The NBA star had barely flinched at the questions he lobbed. Instead, Aomine was scowling and annoyed, but that was completely normal for the man. “Why are you doing this, Da-Daikicchi?!” Kise cried out.

“Doing what?” The man was stunned by his outburst.

“Asking me out. You don’t even know how you feel, but you’re asking me out!”

“I know I like you enough to ask you out. Isn’t that enough?”

“No!”

“Then what? If you’re saying no, then just say so.” The last bit of the statement was oddly subdued.

“I…” he wanted to iterate all his anxieties and worries, but hell would freeze over before Aomine even understood what he was saying.

Ryouta hated the tanned male for all the pain and agony Aomine Daiki had put him through back in their middle and school years. The frustration at never being first. On the court, Kuroko Tetsu had been Aomine’s shadow. And even during the Winter Cup, as glad as he was to see Aomine brought down, he hadn’t been the one to do it. But that was no fault of his former teammate’s. It only showed the gap between their strengths and made Ryouta hate himself even more.

He hated how he could never forget Aomine Daiki. How his reason seemed to escape whenever the tanned male came into the picture. Each time he saw a basketball court or game on television, Ryouta would compare what he was seeing to his memories of Aomine playing. And each time they fell short. No one had the raw magnetism that Aomine had. The powerful plays the NBA star used always managed to capture his attention.

What upset him even more was that although there was something – namely his feelings – that drew him towards Aomine was not reciprocated. Ryouta had experienced the bittersweet pang so many times back in middle school. He hated himself for falling for someone who would never like him back.

At least they hadn’t seemed reciprocated until now…

“…it’s not that.” He answered lamely.

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t want to lose your friendship because of this, Daikicchi.” That part was at least true.

Friendship and dating were different. He had tried dating another model before and things had gotten ugly when he was selected by a well-known photographer and she hadn’t. Although Ryouta wasn’t head over heels for her the same way he was with Aomine, the atmosphere whenever she was present had been horrible. There weren’t any more shoots with the NBA star planned, so if things didn’t pan out, he could very likely lose Aomine in his life for good.

Ryouta could still recall the pain from losing his teammate back in middle school. Back then, he had poured all his sweat and energy into proving himself a worthy opponent, but still come up short. Things were different in the present day though.

He had long since come to accept he was never going to be Aomine’s match on the court. He lacked the stamina and raw skill the tanned male possessed. But that had no bearing on the value he placed on their friendship. His time in New York would have been less enjoyable had his former teammate been absent. Work was stressful enough, and he couldn’t always be in front of a camera. Even if it wasn’t romantically, Ryouta needed someone like Aomine to balance out his life.

“Huh, I see.” Those words seemed to throw the other man off guard for a moment. Aomine recovered fairly quickly though. “You won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve gone through so much shit with Satsuki and we’re still friends. Stop worrying, and give me an answer already, _Ryouta._ ”

He doubted their friendship could compare to the childhood bond Aomine had with Momoicchi, but Ryouta didn’t want to press the point either. His heart had already decided and no matter what happened, he knew that he would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn’t agree.

“Then… yes.” Despite his reservations and misgivings, this was also an opportunity. An opportunity see actually see a relationship between them could actually work. “Yes, I’ll go out with you.”


	13. Time and time again

_**“I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be.”** ~ **Charles Dickens**_

Ryouta had imagined Aomine, no _Daiki_ , would be more reluctant to do romantic activities, and that was true… to an extent.

Since they began dating, he certainly had not confessed his feelings of love for or how long he had been feeling like that towards Daiki. Nor had the other male said anything similar.

Even then, it was leagues beyond what the blonde had ever imagined. Going on a date with Aomine Daiki had been something he had fantasized about, but never envisioned himself doing. Naturally, their default dates were centered upon basketball. Whether it was playing one-on-ones, shopping for basketball attire, or even getting VIP tickets to and attending a Knicks game. It wasn’t too different from their relationship before Daiki asking him out, but there were subtleties.

His boyfriend? date? – it was difficult knowing what their exact relationship was – had insisted on paying the first time. Ryouta had fought back, unsuccessfully so, but he ended up forking the bill on the one after that. Now, they switched every so often. There were also instances in which they bummed at one person’s apartment, sitting closer than friends typically would, and watched TV, Netflix, or the latest basketball game. Sometimes there would be a little French kissing and making out, but they certainly hadn’t gone all the way. Ryouta was a little unsure how to proceed with a straight guy and also because Daiki had been his friend. He didn’t want to ruin their friendship over it. However, those gestures were proof that they weren’t _just_ friends anymore.

Holding hands or public displays of affection would have been nice, but it was an unrealistic expectation. Neither of them were free from scrutiny. While the paparazzi or news outlets didn’t stalk their day to day lives – their one-on-one games were somewhat of an accepted thing by now – a slip could be fatal. If someone got wind that they were dating, it could ruin both their careers. His fan base back in Japan had gone wild after the commercial they had shot, and the thought of fanning the flames further was a scary thought. Scandals like that were common in the modeling world, but much less so in the basketball community. Last year, a NHL player had come out and the outcry had been huge. He could only imagine how divisive it would be for an NBA player.

Ryouta smiled wryly to himself, watching as Daiki was preyed upon by yet another Knicks’ fan. While they hadn’t gotten to the play-offs, nor was it basketball season, the sight of a tall, tanned Asian male was rare enough around Coney Island. They had scheduled the outing to enjoy the last bit of the summer, and so had many of the locals, which only made navigating the beach without being molested that much more difficult. Every fifteen to thirty minutes, someone would come by and ask for Daiki’s signature, and the latter would oblige.

They had been there for more than two hours and Ryouta had witnessed no less than ten impromptu signings already. Thankfully, many of the fans didn’t go crazy – one did – nor did a horde of people form. Still, it was frequently enough to be disruptive.

“Sorry, about that.” The NBA player jogged back. He wanted to reach out and wipe the sweat speckled on Daiki’s forehead, but refrained from doing so.

“It’s okay.” Ryouta knew exactly how Daiki felt. The same problems occurred back in Japan. It was impossible to go anywhere without being mobbed. Even with a disguise, it was difficult to travel completely incognito. At one point, he was forced to hire a bodyguard to get anywhere without threat of bodily harm. “The same thing happens back home.”

“Yeah, I know. Satsuki mentioned it to be before.” There was a small chuckle from Daiki. It was a very pleasant sound. “The incident back in Ginza. Something about cops being called?”

“You knew about it?” Meeting and thanking his fans was the least enjoyable part of his job. While he enjoyed meeting and talking to others, there were too many who imagined a nonexistent relationship with him and acted overly familiar. The affable act and charming smile were both tools of the trade. But what happened in Ginza was over the top. Someone had spotted him, and it had gone from a small sighting to a full-blown fan craze. His cap and sunglasses had gotten lose in the horde of people. And the police had to been called in thankfully before it could escalate.

Ryouta had known fans could go over the top. The office had received multiple letters from fans, some even weird enough to send clippings of hair or blood, and several times certain persons had to be removed from the premises for stalking. But the Ginza incident was more than he had ever expected.

“Yeah. Sounded awful.”

“Mn.” Ryouta sighed at the reminder. The blonde wanted to punch the idiot who suggested it in the first place. Ginza was one of the busiest places in Tokyo and walking around without a bodyguard, even while disguised, was a recipe for disaster. High-end fashion was a big thing in Ginza and there were even several billboards he had modeled for around the stations and high traffic areas.

It had been a lucky coincidence that talks were already in place for an assignment in Europe, so he had leapt on the opportunity to avoid staying in Japan. It had already been a year, and while he missed his friends and family, it was great meeting new people and learning about different cultures. There was still a bit of a language barrier, but it had been quite enjoyable.

But if it had never happened, he would not be on a date with Daiki, chatting on the boardwalk by the beach on Coney Island.

“Damn, it’s hot out here. Thought it was supposed to be in the seventies.” Daiki pulled up the corner of his shirt to wipe the sweat which had accumulated on his face.

“Y-Yeah…” Ryouta had seen the tanned male’s naked body before, but those times had been before his crush had evolved into something more. Even briefly, he could see the tightening on Daiki’s abdominals as the man moved. Since they had started going out, he hadn’t seen much of Daiki’s body aside from the brief glances in the change room or such. He would have loved to caress the tanned skin and see how it felt under his hands.

“Let’s get ice cream.”

“Sure.”

Although only a few words were exchanged, their stroll to the nearby ice cream stand went thankfully uninterrupted. It was a small gelato place and there quite a long line, but it moved blessedly quickly. After a minute or two, they finally got to the front.

“Oi, what flavor do you want?” Daiki tapped on the case.

“I dunno.” He glanced at the attendant. “What would you recommend?”

“Well if you like nuts, the chocolate hazelnut is a must try. The stracciatella is also a classic.”

“Hmm, I’ll take a scoop of chocolate hazelnut, stracciatella, and vanilla in a waffle cone. Daikicchi?” He looked into the pair of piercing blue eyes.

“I’ll get banana cream pie, chocolate, and coffee then.”

“You still like banana-flavored things, Daikicchi?” Ryouta teased.

“You still like that onion soup thingy.”

“So? Least it’s not banana milk.” Banana milk had been Daiki’s favorite beverage during and after a practice. They didn’t have any in the States, so it was _cute_ seeing the old habit reemerge.

“Shut up, baka-Kise. Or I’m not going to pay for your ice cream.”

“You’re so stingy!”

After receiving their orders –Daiki ended up paying for everything given how he had paid previously – they resumed their stroll on the boardwalk.

“Mmm…” The blonde hummed, enjoying the sweet creaminess on his palate. The attendant’s recommendation truly was right on the spot. The chocolate hazelnut was bitter enough so the sweetness wasn’t overpowering. And it was blessedly cold too.

“Let me try some.” Before Ryouta had a chance to react, Daiki leaned over and bit a large chunk of his gelato. “Damn, you’re right.”

“Daikicchi!”

“What?” The tanned male feigned ignorance, returning to consume his own icy treat.

“You still owe me for the popsicle back in high school!” Ryouta wasn’t really concerned with the popsicle, but it was the principle that counted.

“Tch, I bought you this,” Daiki motioned to the cone he held, “didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but you just ate mine.”

“What’s the big deal? Stop freaking out, Ryouta.” They had changed over to addressing one another on a first name basis since that night. It took a little getting used to given how Daiki pronouncing his name would cause butterflies in his stomach. Although the NBA pro wasn’t the first or only one to address him by name, it felt more personal when Daiki did.

“Here,” his date waved his own cone in front of Ryouta’s face, “you can try some of mine.”

Another difference was the intimacy between them when sharing foods. While it wasn’t uncommon for friends to steal a French fry from one another, it was less common to chomp down on a friend’s ice cream cone or burger.

“Hmph.” He did just that, and used his spoon to dig a chunk out of the chocolate side of the Daiki’s gelato. While it still tasted great, it wasn’t as delicious as the chocolate hazelnut. “It’s not as good as the part you stole.” He accused.

“Stop complaining. It makes your face look ugly.”

“I’m not complaining. You were the one who stole my ice cream.” Ryouta was aware of the underlying teasing quality Daiki had injected into the comment, but he couldn’t help the small protest that emerged from his throat. “And take that back. I don’t look ugly!”

“You sure?” Stymied, he returned to eating his gelato which was slowly beginning to melt in the heat, glaring at the jerk in the process. “Why don’t I take a picture?” The tanned male whipped out his phone. Ryouta barely had time to blink when the shutter sound went off. “Wow! That was a great shot!” Daiki laughed.

“What? Let me see!” There was a small buzz on his phone and a moment later, he opened the picture message to see himself face-to-face with a photo of him with gelato around his mouth and eyes wide open in shock.

“Oh my god, delete that now, Daikicchi!” Ryouta reached out to grab the other man’s phone, but failed. Daiki jumped back with his preternatural reflexes, still holding onto both his phone and ice cream while doing so. “Give it here now!”

“No, I’m sending it to Satsuki now.”

“Daikicchi! Give it here!”

“Just try to grab it if you can!” Daiki taunted, holding the phone as far away from him. It was just like one of their one-on-ones with the basketball pro dribbling the ball around him, all the while teasing him in the process.

“Daikicchi…!” Frustrated, Ryouta lunged for it.

“I got it–” His fingertips barely managed to touch Daiki’s arm before Ryouta became aware of a chill on his body.

“What the–”

He followed Daiki’s gaze, looking down to see the white-brown mess that was Daiki’s ice cream smeared between them. His own cone was spared the same fate, but the rigorous movement had sent much of it flying over his hand, leaving it stick and wet.

“Ryouta! Couldn’t you have not done that?” Daiki glared at him, using the napkins they received from buying the gelato to try and save their clothing. It was a labor in vain. While the colors weren’t as visible on Daiki’s black shirt as it was on his own blue one, the cold stickiness was painfully obvious.

“Sorry, it wasn’t my fault though. You were the one who took the picture.” He quickly lapped up the leaking treat in his own hand.

“It was just a picture. Besides, I was only going to send it to Satsuki. It’s not like we haven’t seen you in worse.” That part was true. Having known one Momoi Satsuki for a good portion of his middle and high school years, there was no doubt even worse scenes which had accumulated during those times. And Daiki wasn’t the type to go crazy and post it on social media either. “No need to act so crazy about it.”

“Ok, fine.” He reluctantly conceded.

“This feels gross.” The tanned male groaned, taking off his shirt and wiping the spot which had come in contact with the gelato.

Ryouta had to consciously avert his gaze to keep from staring. The stolen glances were completely insufficient to the sight of Aomine’s chest in broad sunlight for all to see. Daiki certainly wasn’t as chunky or large as some in the league. He was still cut and muscled, but of a leaner build, necessary to pull off the speed and stamina of being a power forward. Thankfully, Daiki hadn’t caught him looking and was still concerned with wiping off the remaining mess.

Looking down at his own clothing, there was no way he would be able to get the sweet stickiness out without a shower and laundry. Ryouta was tempted to take his own shirt off, but he hadn’t put sunscreen on. While he doubted a little bit of sun would cause him to tan or burn, the blonde didn’t want to run the risk of it either. He had done so once, accidentally, during a shoot near the Dead Sea and it had forced them to wait a week until the sunburn was gone. “So what now? We could catch an Uber and head back.”

“…yeah, let’s do that.” There was a resigned breath as Daiki threw his shirt over his shoulder.

Sharing what was left of his icy treat, they made their way back towards the street to hail someone to pick them up. Unfortunately, neither of them were aware of the prying eyes that followed.


	14. Overcast future

_If this were some sappy love story of childhood friends reuniting, you’d know I wouldn’t have spent so much time in the real beginning talking about the trials of lost love. Alas, I’m sad to say that the same thing happened here. Well... kind of._

_Antony Fisher, or Tony as most of his friends called him, was your average guy growing up. He maintained a barely-above passing grade throughout school, hung out with friends, dated, and the whole thing. Most importantly, though, was his desire to be a pro basketball player. He was the star of his team in elementary school and throughout middle school, but once high school hit, he was no longer on the first-string. Sure, he played in some matches, but he was no longer as essential to the team as he was._

_It was hard for the teenager – why wouldn’t it be? – except what made it more difficult for Tony was his twin sister’s obsession with Japanese culture. His failing in basketball came around the same time as his sisters otaku phase hit. While he was struggling to cope with the possibility that he’d never make it to the big leagues, his twin had become enamored with one particular blonde, even going so far as to tell her brother and mock him as siblings did about an up and coming model who by chance, was also a star basketball player at his school. Tony never remembered any of their names – it was Japanese for crying out loud – but through his pesky sister’s influence grew hateful of the blond face that littered both sports and fashion magazines._

_He eventually moved out of his parents’ place in Long Island and went to room with a couple of friends in Astoria. Life was good. Tony had a girlfriend, made decent money as a bartender, and played basketball with friends on the street courts. Of course, like any basketball loving fan, he followed the NBA and his local team religiously._

_Tony didn’t have any particular favorite player, though he tended to root more for the power forwards as that was his position. He memorized all the statistics on the Knicks, their players and faces, and even bet with friends about who was going to win the next games. Of course when he saw one of the Knick’s power forwards, Aomine Ryouta, dining with some vaguely familiar blond at his workplace, he remembered it, even bragged about it to his friends. It wasn’t until he went back to his parents’ place that he recognized the blond… the hateful model his sister used to bring up and tease him about._

_Realizing who it was accompanying one of his team’s players infuriated Tony. Particularly after he saw them walking too closely and acting much too friendly for friends on Coney Island. So, of course, he followed them, intent on bringing down the blonde who was the epitome of everything he hated since high school and even tainted one of his favorite players._

_Like any small-minded creature, little did Tony know that his one action would set off a chain of events that he couldn’t control._

_That just one pebble was enough to send ripples and disrupt the calm…_

 

* * *

 

**“ _To love someone deeply gives you strength. Being loved by someone deeply gives you courage.” ** _―_** Lao Tzu_**

 

“Kise-san, what is this?”

“What is what?” The blond model looked up from his cellphone where he had been texting Momoi about the happenings with his boyfriend. Things were going much better than Ryouta had ever dreamed. Just this past weekend he had spent the night over at Daiki’s They had ordered take-out, watched a game, and done some other things he wasn’t about to reveal to their long-time friend.  

“This.”

Glancing at the blown-up image, blood immediately rushed out of his face. His hands felt clammy as he gingerly took the photograph with his fingertips, pretending to look it over while knowing full well what was on it. It was a picture of the two of them kissing. The earring, blond hair, and angle of his face were a dead giveaway for his identity. And while Daiki’s face wasn’t completely visible in the picture, anyone who knew his ring of acquaintances in New York would be able to figure it out.

They had taken precaution when dating never to act too friendly in public. Granted, being close friends gave them a little leeway, but aside from Momoi, and likely Akashi who ended up knowing everything somehow, their relationship was completely between the two of them. Neither of them wanted it blowing up and ruining their careers.

“Between you and me, Kise, is that Aomine Daiki?” His agent and manager pointed to the backside of man with short-cropped dark hair.

“Yes.”

“When were you going to tell me about this?”

Ryouta had considered telling Matsuo about it; the man would find out eventually even if they tried to keep it a secret. But the last time his manager had gotten up in his face and nearly put him under house arrest after things went sideways. The consternated expression on Matsuo’s face back then fell short of the livid anger he had seen once, but it was enough to put Ryouta on edge.

“Sometime eventually…?” He hedged.

“Do you know what would happen if this got out? Do you know how much we’ve invested in you to come abroad?” His manager flung his arms in the air, in a sign of hopelessness, before fixing Ryouta with an angry gaze. “You’re only lucky that they decided to send this directly to us instead of leaking it online or to a magazine.”

“What do they want then?” In his experience there were two types of reporters and paparazzi. The first type wanted hush money and were generally easily settled. The second were after the truth, and were much harder to silence.

“Well, it came with this.” Another sheet of paper was handed over to him with blocky text written in black marker. The pit in Ryouta’s stomach only grew larger as he read the hateful words inscribed on it. ‘HE’S NOT GAY. HOW DARE YOU. BURN IN HELL YOU FAGGOT.’

Ryouta had encountered crazed fans before on numerous occasions. Most of the times his office would sort through the fan mail and hand off any extremely disturbing cases to the police. However, this time it was different. While he had dated previously and experienced hateful comments about his choice of partners, the situation between him and Daiki was much more fragile.

It was true they were close friends, but he could still recall the distance between them in high school. Basketball had been the only thing linking them together, and even then it was often one-sided with Daiki beating him on the court every single time. Outside of the court, they were vastly different people, living distinctly separate lives. Had it not been for his trip to New York and their chance encounter, it very well might have been many more years before they even said a word to each other, let alone in person. It was trivial to keep abreast of Daiki’s public life with all the fans and news on the team, but that was completely different from actually knowing the man.

Basketball was still everything to the NBA pro, which only raised the stakes on their relationship. As far as everyone around them was concerned, Daiki was straight. Same-sex marriage was legal in New York, but that didn’t mean everyone was accepting of romantic relationships between two men (or women). Ryouta wasn’t sure about the stipulations in his boyfriend’s contract, and while he doubted being in a homosexual relationship would endanger his status within the team, there was no telling how the public or sponsors would react. He certainly did not want Daiki to lose his dream job and career because of their relationship.

“Do you understand the severity of the situation now?” Ryouta dully nodded. “I don’t care if you’re seeing someone – I’m happy you are – but Aomine Daiki? Kise, he has as much to lose as you do! In fact, even more!” Matsuo was understandably concerned about this, but it wasn’t like Ryouta was flying blind either.

The blond wanted to argue back and tell him of the struggles he had faced to come to even begin dating Daiki, but each and every word rang true. There would be only a minor scandal if it was some random man on the street, but Daiki was renowned for being one for being a Japanese basketball player who was shorter than his team by about a head on average, and yet one of the best in the world. Every youth in Japan knew Daiki’s name, similar to how ever Chinese knew of Yao Ming.

“I understand Matsuo...”

“Do you really? Do you know what is at stake here?”

Was it really coming down to this? Their jobs over their relationship? It was too cliché and hurtful to even thing about. There was no doubt in his mind that if he were in Daiki’s shoes, which of the two options to select.

“I’ll give him a call.” Ryouta wouldn’t be able to forgive himself for ruining Daiki’s career. He could survive without the tanned male at his side. He had done so for so long. It would hurt, but he would get through it.

Inhaling deeply, he let the negative emotions flow through him as he exhaled. In the darkest recesses of Ryouta’s mind, the blond supermodel had always known that it was too good to be true. He had never voiced his doubts aloud to Daiki since they began seeing each other, but they were always there. Lodged deeply behind the gaiety and fun he had. His boyfriend had never been gay to begin with and with the constant media spotlight on each of them, things were bound to end one day.

The ephemeral dream had but lasted a few weeks.

 

* * *

 

“What the hell do you mean, Kise?” Daiki hollered into the phone. He had been expecting a call from Ryouta to discuss when they would be meeting next, but the bomb the stupid blond had dropped was completely unexpected.

“You know what I mean.”

“What the fuck is this about a picture anyways?”

“It is what it is. Matsuo received a photo of us kissing.”

“So? It’s just one photo. It’s not like anyone else knows.”

“But someone does.” The blond on the other end insisted. “Which is why I think we should break up.”

“It’s just one person, Ryouta.” He wished they weren’t doing this over the phone. Daiki would have liked to smack the idiotic blonde for overthinking things. “What are you so afraid of?” He understood Ryouta’s fear about their relationship being outed, but Daiki doubted it would affect his career as much as Ryouta thought it would.

His team certainly wouldn’t care about his sexual orientation. Unless he was going to hit on one of his teammates – which he wouldn’t – who he slept with really wouldn’t matter. They were all very open and chill guys. While no one on his team was gay, at least not openly, they all knew people who were. JC had a female cousin who was bisexual, and a couple of months ago they were invited to and attended a wedding for their coach’s son, Quinn, who was. There had been a few silly jokes about male locker rooms during the reception, but no one was concerned that it was a gay wedding. The guy was practically a member of the team, often tossing a few hoops in the downtime between practices.

“Daikicchi… I – It’s over.” There was an air of finality as the other end hung up.

“What the fuck?” Holding his cell in front of him, Daiki stared incredulously at the fact that Ryouta had just hung up on him. Jabbing the dial button, the call rang for a few seconds before immediately bouncing to voicemail.

“Baka-Kise…” he muttered to himself, shoving the phone into a pocket as he grabbed his keys. If Ryouta wasn’t talking to him on the phone, he’d just have to go in person and see what was up.

It was a quick twenty-minute taxi to Ryouta’s apartment. Uncaring if anyone saw him, he hurried up the elevator and down the hall to his boyfriend’s apartment. There was a thin stream of light escaping from the bottom of the door, but he couldn’t hear any sounds that indicated his boyfriend was home.

Rapping sharply on the door, he called out, “Ryouta, you there?” There was a noise on the other side which made him frown. “Ryouta, I know you’re in there. Open up.”

“No, go away, Daikicchi.”

“Damn it, open the stupid door.” He was tempted to kick the door in, but that would be a hassle to fix or explain why it was broken.

“Go away.” The response was muffled. “What are you even doing here, Dai– Aominecchi?” Daiki frowned at how Ryouta changed the way he addressed him.

“Damn it, you call me and suddenly tell me it’s over? What the fuck are you talking about?” He didn’t care it was ten-thirty in the evening and he was causing a ruckus yelling in the middle of the hallway.

“I already told you, Ahomine.”

“Yeah, so what? It’s _one_ fucking picture.” Daiki hated how obstinate the blonde was being. “Open the door.” He pounded with his fist, uncaring of the racket he was making. “Are you even listening to me, Kise? Open the stupid door this second or I’ll–”

“You’ll what?” His fist froze in midair as it swung open to reveal a puffy-eyed blonde whose complexion was covered with pink splotches.

“What’s wrong with your face?’ Daiki couldn’t help blurting out. He had seen Ryouta defeated during the Winter Cup against, but never crying. For someone whose job was all about appearances, the blonde didn’t resemble a model at all. Those golden eyes were dulled, hair messy with strands sticking up all over the place, and face ashen. “Your face is…”

“Shut up, Ahomine.” Ryouta sniffled, glaring at him. “What do you want? I told you everything over the phone already.”

“Ughh… damn it, Ryouta.” None of this made any sense. Daiki was sure Ryouta had weathered worse in his line of work. Satsuki had made sure that he stayed aware of any major events which happened to anyone from their middle school circle and Bakagami. “Tell me everything.”

“What is there to say? Someone took a picture of us kissing.”

“Yeah, and since when did one photo stop you from doing anything?” It didn’t make sense for Ryouta to suddenly refuse to go out with him after one stupid picture. The blonde was the crazy optimistic idiot who never stopped asking for one-on-ones back in middle school. “Did Matsuo say something?”

“No, it’s my decision.”

“Yeah, and what about my decision?”

“What about it?”

“What if I say no?” he crossed his arms defiantly.

“You can’t say no, Daikicchi!”

“Why not?”

“Be-because…”

“Can you guys shut up or go inside?” Someone at the other end of the hallway yelled out. “We’re trying to sleep here!”

“Crap.” Ryouta muttered, eyes wide open. “Sorry! We’ll be more quiet.” He waved back at his fellow tenant who glared for a moment longer before slipping back into his apartment. There was a defeated sigh as Ryouta opened the door wider and let him in. “Come in.”

Daiki crossed his arms once more, throwing himself on the sofa. Instead of taking a seat next to him, Ryouta shuffled tiredly to the couch on the side. “Aominecchi, what are you doing here? Anyone could have heard us back then.”

“We’ll deal with it then.” He frowned at how the blonde was behaving like the world was ending. These things were always bad at the beginning, but people got used to it. Besides, there were more pressing matters at hand.

“Ahomine…”

“So, you gonna tell me what’s up now?”

Lifeless eyes stared at him before Ryouta sighed once again. “I did it for your own good. What if the picture leaks?”

“Who cares about them? As I said, we’ll deal with it then.” Daiki shrugged carelessly. “What I do in my life is my own business.”

“You were always like that.” A wan smile emerged on Ryouta’s mouth.

“Yeah? It’s true though.” Taking the opportunity while Ryouta wasn’t fuming or blocking him out, he asked once more. “So, you still going to break up with me?”


	15. Perilous future

**_“Love is not affectionate feeling, but a steady wish for the loved person's ultimate good as far as it can be obtained." ―C.S. Lewis_ **

 

“I…”

Ryouta stumbled on the words he wants to say. A part of him is desperate to keep what they have, but the other part of him doesn’t want to be responsible for Daiki’s downfall. Everything has gone so terribly wrong. Their relationship was supposed to be beautiful. So far it had been full of basketball, sarcastic quips from his boyfriend, and filled with golden light and fun. Couldn’t Daiki see that? It wasn’t like he wanted to break up.

Over the last few days he realized one simple truth. And that was despite all the complications in their relationship, with so many strings tying them together and so many things keeping them apart, in the end only one thing remained.

And that simple truth was that he loved Aomine Daiki.

There were no questions or hesitation about it. There had always been an irresistible draw tugging him towards the other man. No other relationship, no other _person_ , made him feel the same way. Daiki was snarky and mean at times, but those quirks were only part of what defined the man in front of him, looking at him with dark eyes. If Ryouta didn’t already love Daiki for who the man was, he would easily have been captivated by his former teammate’s skills on the court. The lanky teenager he once knew had filled out and become an amazing basketball player.

He wanted to share his life with the other man, to spend every waking moment with Daiki, every breath he took shared with the man he loved. Ryouta wanted to do everything, re-experience everything, with the man by his side. It didn’t matter if Daiki snored or slept on his stomach, stole his food, or beat him every single time when they played basketball. All that mattered was that he wanted Daiki in his life. Forever.

But love wasn’t a panacea. It couldn’t feed the hungry. It couldn’t heal wounds. And it couldn’t prevent the inbound problems for his or Daiki’s career.

“I-I… yes.” Saying those weighty words crushed him. It was so much easier saying it on the phone than it was when Daiki stood right in front of him.

While the picture which had been sent to him wasn’t yet circulated, it was only a matter of time. They might have prevented this one, but it wouldn’t prevent someone else from finding out. There were already some fans who had jokingly paired them up romantically – Ryouta hadn’t minded those as much, it was kinda cute – but reality was far from forgiving. Who knew what would really happen if the rest of the world found out?

Daiki looked shocked and upset. Eyes blown wide open before they narrowed, and anger contorted across his face. “So you’re saying that one fucking picture is more than _this?_ ”

“N-no… but what if they find out?” Couldn’t Daiki see what he wanted to do? That this was for _his_ sake?

“What if they do? It’s not like they can fire me.”

“Can’t they?” Ryouta was aware his boyfriend was in his second year of a six-year contract with the Knicks, and unless Daiki did something illegal or violated his terms, there wasn’t anything they could do. Coming out as dating another man wasn’t technically a violation, but there was sure to be a large outcry from fans and could potentially ruin Daiki’s chances of renewing his contract after the six years were up. “What about your dream?”

“What dream?”

“Of being the MVP in the NBA.”

“How do you even remember that? That was years ago.” Because Ryouta remembered everything about Daiki. He remembered the way Daiki used to move on the court, his hobby for idols, love of teriyaki burgers, and hatred of bees. He could recall in perfect detail the first time he ever laid eyes on the then-teenaged version of Daiki on the court, his movements both perplexing and mesmerizing in a way Ryouta had never experienced before. “And y’know, it’s not like I’ll definitely become the MVP. There are other players out there.”

That much was true; there _were_ many other players in the NBA, power forwards and point guards alike, who were just as skilled. There were no guarantees on the court, only trying one’s best. Becoming MVP was difficult enough, but if it came out that Daiki was dating another man, that would make the goal only more difficult to achieve. The public was sensitive about things like homosexuality and while those didn’t officially factor into the decision, Ryouta knew how much of it was also based on the public’s perception.

“B-but…”

“Are you stupid, Ryouta? Even Satsuki would say that what you’re doing is dumb.”

“What do you want me to do? It’s not like I wanted this to happen!”

“We’ll figure something out. I can ask John or someone. These things happen all the time.” The way Daiki spoke, confident and unwavering gave Ryouta hope. “It’ll be funny when they find out. Hell, even freaky Seijuurou will be surprised.” The mention of their former team leader made him snort.

“As if, Seijuuroucchi probably already knows!” During middle school, there were far too many things that were impossible to hide from the scissors-wielding, red-eyed leader of the Generation of Miracles. Seijuurou Akashi had a way to make people listen, and even Daiki who was insolent on a good day, had done so.

“Probably… yeah.” Daiki shuddered. “Him and his scissors.”

“Haha, I remember you being suuuper scared of him!” Ryouta teased. Daiki had suggested skipping practice once, and Ryouta would have gone with it had it not been for the threat of Seijuurou finding out and punishing them.

“You too.”

“He threatened to cut off my hair! I needed it!”

“Yeah, yeah. You and your pretty boy face and shit.”

“Daikicchi!” The blond screeched, admonishing his smirking boyfriend.

The moment of humor and bonding over their mutual past quickly faded.

Ryouta gulped, feeling small despite him being older than and just as tall as the basketball pro. Now that he was aware of his feelings and of Daiki’s reluctance to break up – Ryouta hadn’t been aware how attached Daiki had gotten – it made what he had set out to do so much more difficult. If not impossible. “Daiki… it’s not that I want to break up, but…”

“Then don’t.”

“But it’s not that simple. Why can’t you see that, Daikicchi!” Telling Daiki had been agonizing. It had been as if he was tearing out his own heart.

“Isn’t it? You’re the one making things complicated.” Daiki looked as frustrated as he was; face twisted in aggravation.

“No it isn’t!”

“Why not?”

“Because it’ll ruin everything! If they find out… if they find out…” he trailed off, unable to voice all the fears he had.

“So what if they find out? If that’s what you’re most afraid of, then let them?”

“Let them?” The sound came out as an outraged squawk. “Are you crazy, Ahominecchi?” The whole point of breaking up was to prevent the public from finding out. “Do you even know why I’m doing this?”

“Damn it, Ryouta. That doesn’t matter to me!”

“You’re only saying that because you don’t know how serious it is! You haven’t been in any scandals!” Ryouta had been caught up in a couple of them, because of how famous he was, but they were all unsubstantiated rumors and eventually faded into nothing. Those days were hell, dodging cameras and avoiding reporters. He hadn’t even been able to return home given how they were staking out his building. His wasn’t even the worst. Some celebrities had ended up depressed and unable to cope with the unending stream of media provocation, diving into drugs and in the worst case, committing suicide.

“I can’t believe you’re afraid of some stupid-ass reporters.”

“Rightfully so. They’ll ruin your life!” Ryouta wasn’t sure when they had stood up, but they were standing face-to-face inches apart.

“You wanna just give up on this?” A tanned hand wrapped around his skull, as Daiki’s mouth crashed hotly onto his. The action surprised him so much, he stood there in shock for a moment, before registering what was going on and returning as much into the kiss as Daiki had. When they pulled back, he could see the fire dancing behind those eyes. “After everything? Really?”

Staring at Daiki, Ryouta couldn’t give a proper reply to his boyfriend’s statement. He really didn’t want to give up… but it was for the best, wasn’t it?

Daiki stared at him hard, studying his eyes, for a moment before the hand around head fell. “You know what? Screw this. If you really want to break up over some dumbass picture, then fine. I’m out. We’re over. Whatever you wanna call it.”

Before the tanned male could walk away, Ryouta pushed him to down onto the seat. “Does it look like I want to do this? I hate it, Daikicchi! All I want–” his breath hitched at the thought of breaking up and never seeing Daiki again. All he wanted was to stay together, to continue doing what they were doing, to continuing having Daiki in his life. Swallowing the lump in his throat, the blonde forged onwards. “All I want is _this_.”

Ryouta leaned forward, mashing his mouth against Daiki’s, as savagely as his boyfriend had done moments previously.  The basketball player didn’t hesitate to do the same; mouth opening and closing, devouring him. The attraction and energy simmering just beneath the surface from their angry bickering rushed forward, exploding from underneath as it took over, and all Ryouta could think about was Daiki.

Too engrossed in making out, it took several trills for the noise to register in his hazy mind. There were only a handful of people who had a special ringtone. Breaking off the kiss, he hopped off Daiki’s lap and picked it up. The name lit up on the screen filled him with dread. “Shit! It’s my agent!”

“The glasses-wearing nerd?”

“Yes. What do I do? Daikicchi!” Tossing his hands up, Ryouta didn’t care if he was making a mess out of his hair as he tried to figure out a plan of what to say. Matsuo had been the one to suggest breaking up, and while it made sense logically, emotion had overruled rationality, resulting in the situation they were in now. Ryouta didn’t regret sleeping with Daiki, but sex hadn’t solved anything. It had only delayed dealing with the problem at hand.

“About what?”

“This!”

“Tell him to fuck off and call you in the morning.” Daiki’s arm reached out and pulled him back to the sofa. “I’m not done with you yet.” Darkly glittering blue eyes stared down at him as the basketball player rolled them around.

“Daikicchi! Let go! I need to take this!” Ryouta breathed, pushing weakly against his boyfriend’s heavy frame. Even though they were similar heights, Daiki was pure muscle from playing sports, while he wasn’t. One of the downsides with modeling was that he had to be careful with what he ate to make sure his figure stayed slim, but toned. Which meant that right now, there wasn’t much he could do to push his overbearing boyfriend off.

“Stop freaking out, baka-Ryouta.” Before the model could do anything, Daiki plucked the phone from the bed where it had begun vibrating and shut it off, tossing the device carelessly onto the table. “You can call him tomorrow.”

“Daikicch–nnh!” Ryouta’s reprimand transformed into a moan at the sudden assault the tanned male launched, hands skimming against his skin, mouth against his neck, and legs bracketing his own. Daiki had a way of making the entire world fall away, as their limbs intertwined, weaving across and under clothing. Any thought of the discussion they were just having fell to the way side and all he could think about was the man by his side.

 

“Are you crazy, Kise-san? What you’re suggesting is insane!”

“But it’s going to happen anyways.”

After that emotion-laden night, he and Daiki had eventually sat down to discuss things, calling Momoi Satsuki for part of it. He completely agreed with the man’s sentiment that holding a press conference was insane, but it was better to go straight out and say the truth at a time and place of their choosing, rather than have it suddenly explode without warning. There would definitely be repercussions, but looking over his back every second, wary of being found out, was even worse.

“What about everyone back home? They’ll never agree to this!”

“About me dating another man?”

“Yes, you know that the company won’t accept such a thing. Have you even told them?”

“Well it’s a good thing that I don’t need the money.” Modeling wasn’t an easy career, the higher up he went, the harder the fall was. But Ryouta had amassed enough that he could quit at any time and have a cushy life. Lately, he had been thinking of retiring from the industry. He had been in it for more than a dozen years and as fun as it was, it was also draining. Being good at it, didn’t mean he always enjoyed it. Somewhere along the line, it had become less enjoyable and more taxing.

“Arghnnn… Kise-san! I strongly suggest you rethink this!”

“No. My mind is set.” He had expected such opposition, but unlike the previous people he worked with, while Matsuo was responsible and supportive, they both knew that Kise was the one with the power. His previous managers might have locked him up for suggesting something so stupid, but he had been careful enough and chosen someone who had as much on the line as he did. “Even if we didn’t do this, they could still find out about my relationship with Daikicchi.”

Matsuo stared at him for a long minute, before collapsing on the opposing chair with his hands in his head. “I can’t believe this. I’ve been with you for so long and now you’re risking this all for one person?”

“I am.” Daiki wasn’t just one person to him; he was his other half. And it wasn’t like he was the only one who was going to get hell for the press conference they planned to hold as soon as possible. Ryouta still hadn’t heard from his boyfriend about what the rest of the team thought, but the brief call they made earlier suggested the team’s manager and coach weren’t hostile to the idea. “But, really, I would appreciate it if you helped set it up and let people back at home know.”

“I’m going to get killed for doing such a thing…” His manager groaned one last time, as he fell back into the chair.


	16. Towards the future

_**I was a child and she was a child,** _  
_**In this kingdom by the sea** _  
_**But we loved with a love that was more than love—** _  
_**I and my Annabel Lee—** _  
_**With a love that the winged seraphs of Heaven** _  
_**Coveted her and me.** _  
_**~Edgar Allen Poe** _

 

Making his way to the changing room, Daiki was relieved to finally experience something he was used to as he flung the door open. There was only one other person in the changing room. “Hey, D.” Dan, one of the point guards, waved.

“Hey.” Daiki plopped his bag down on the bench.

“It’s rare to see you come in so early.”

“Yeah well, stuff happens.” Arriving early wasn’t his thing, but Daiki needed the extra time to avoid the pesky media and because he wanted some more time on the court. It had been difficult sneaking a one-on-one on the public courts without being found out and he was stressed from the lack of basketball lately. The pre-season was starting up pretty soon and he needed as much practice as he could yet.

“So how’s it going after the big reveal?”

“Fucking reporters are everywhere.” The power forward groaned, shucking off his jacket and hanging it up.

The backlash from the community was instantaneous. The questions had begun even before they had finished speaking. Many who came to the joint press conference had assumed it would be to promote another product or commercial, but their faces soon turned to shock. A flurry of questions started soon after. Everything from ‘is this a publicity stunt?’ to ‘how do you think your fans would react?’ was asked. They had taken one or two questions, as advised, but quickly stepped off the podium to avoid dealing with the media.

In Daiki’s mind, it had been amusing for the first couple of seconds, watching the shocked expressions on everyone’s faces, and then it had gotten annoying. The questions the press asked were ones he had anticipated and been warned about, but it was still fucking annoying. It had been a week since the announcement and the rampant speculation still hadn’t stopped. In the past, while there were odd times when he would be asked for an autograph, now there was press, spectators, and fans alike, all hounding him. Some were crazy enough to stake outside his building and tried to ambush him when he entered or left.

He didn’t use social media much, having it only due to pressure from Satsuki and the team, but Daiki still got earfuls of shit from them. He managed to maintain a good distance from most of the verbal bashing and name calling, but playing basketball had nothing to do with dating a guy. The office had received a barrage of hate mail calling for him to quit the sport, that faggots didn’t play basketball, and so on. The intensity of their reactions had taken him aback a little.

The other extreme was true as well. Many LGBT groups were very supportive and openly vocal of it, applauding him and Ryouta for being role models and public figures who didn’t try and shy away from their relationship status. There were also stories or fanfiction and fanart, no thanks to Satsuki unearthing and sending them to him, other crazies had written about his relationship. Some were much more graphic than Daiki was comfortable dealing with.

“I feel you, man. When I got married to Denise, it was the same way.” His teammate had gotten married last year around the same time. Daiki still remembered the media fiasco that had arisen from that given the nasty breakup with a well-known actress which had preceded his new relationship with his high school sweetheart.

“How’s she doing?”

“She’s beginning to show a little. Blames me for the morning sickness though.” There was a light-hearted chuckle.

“How many months is it now?”

“A little over four months.”

“Damn. That’s fast.”

“Yeah. You guys going doing okay though?” The friendly chat had made it easy to forget everything that was happening around him. None of his team really cared about who he was into and were openly supportive of him speaking out about it. Most other players were also the same, though there were some conservative zealots in the league who criticized him for doing so. It was a giant pain in the ass. Who cared whether a person was gay, straight, bi, or whatever on the court? Daiki was in the NBA to play basketball with the best, not to compare dick sizes. If they thought they could beat him on the court simply of such a simple thing, they were vastly mistaken.

“Who?”

“You and your boyfriend. Ruu-ta?” Dan rubbed the back of his head, embarrassed.

“Ryouta. Kise Ryouta.”

“Sorry, I’m having a little trouble with the name.”

“It’s fine.” Daiki shrugged. At least his teammate was honest about his inability to pronounce it. Several of the reporters who had managed to get a word in edgewise, had butchered Ryouta’s name.

“So how are you guys doing? It’s difficult having the spotlight turned on you.”

“It’s been…” The Japanese player threw his jersey over his head, pausing to get the right words out. There really wasn’t any one thing to capture the frustration Daiki felt over the entire situation. “Y’know the shit’s that’s been happening.”

“Well if you ever need someone to talk to or to grab a drink, let me know.”

Daiki could definitely use a drink once the whole thing blew over. It was really a matter of waiting till the media either got tired of the story or something else took over their interest. “Sure.”

“When my wife found out who it was, she was ecstatic.”

“Huh.” Ryouta was always happy to meet people who appreciated his work. And knowing Dan’s wife, she would most definitely get along with the pretty boy. “I’ll let him know.”

“Yeah. Apparently, Denise is a big fan of his work. Showed me some of the stuff with Dior and some other stuff he was doing in Europe. Damn, after seeing it, it almost makes _me_ want to be gay. Never knew you were keeping such a hottie to yourself.”

While he was aware, no thanks to Satsuki and Ryouta, of his boyfriend’s gigs in Europe, Daiki knew that Ryouta had modeled for and did many other things he wasn’t as aware of. The press conference they had had had undoubtedly affected Ryouta as well. They didn’t talk much about it, but Daiki knew one of the fears the pretty boy had was for companies to retract their offers or find someone else to work with. Hell, in the worst case scenario, it wasn’t as if Ryouta couldn’t sponge off him for a bit. Money wasn’t an issue for him; in fact, he had more than he could spend. And knowing how popular Ryouta was, Daiki doubted it would even come down to that.

“Shut up, and get your own, Dan.” He snorted and lightly punched the other man in the shoulder. It was just amicable teasing and they both knew it.

“Yeah, yeah. So you ever going to bring him around?”

“Maybe.” The topic was another one where their views had differed. Ryouta had been afraid of showing up and having his presence mar Daiki’s, but the basketball player knew his team and those around them wouldn’t give a flying fuck. Of course that was all in the past. After the press conference, there really couldn’t be anything else, short of a scandal, which could damage his reputation further. They hadn’t talked about it since then; too busy navigating the vicious media storm that had rained down on them in the last couple of days. “We’ll see.”

“Sweet. Is he as good as he seems? Being your former teammate and all.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty good.” While Ryouta never won any of their one-on-ones, his boyfriend didn’t practice or train regularly. And their roles on the court were also different, making a direct comparison difficult. While Ryouta might not win against his team, he knew his boyfriend would definitely give them a run for their money. It definitely would be something the model would be interested in.

“That’s high praise coming from you.” Dan whistled. Daiki rarely praised the skill of other players, largely because he _was_ better than them, but Ryouta was fairly decent on the court. “You should bring him around and maybe we’ll get a chance to play against him.”

“Play against who?” Another of their teammates, Terrence, who played center, asked as he entered the room.

“D’s boyfriend.”

“Oh. Is he dropping by or something? Heard he played back in high school or something. Pretty good too.” Daiki was mildly surprised at hearing that their high school playing had made it all the way to the United States. But with the media digging up everything about their histories, it wasn’t that far of a stretch.

“I dunno. Is he?”

“Fine, I’ll ask.” It was bound to happen eventually. If not today, then some other practice down the line. But this way, Ryouta would stop worrying about how their relationship affected his relationship with his team. And there was more time to get used to things if anything did happen. Pulling out his phone, Daiki punched in a couple of words and pressed send. “There, sent.”

“Cool.”

Daiki was about to put his phone back into the locker when it buzzed in his hand. Unlocking the device, he was surprised at Ryouta’s rapid response. The model was pretty free this week – having his schedule purposely cleared to avoid confrontation at work – and he had expected Ryouta to be sleeping in or something. Instead, what he received was a text with one of Ryouta’s semi-obnoxious emoji thingys.

 _[From Pretty boy]:_ why?

 _[To Pretty boy]:_ some of the guys from the team wanna play

 _[From Pretty boy]:_ You mean basketball?

 _[To Pretty boy]:_ ya

 _[From Pretty boy]:_ Sure! I’d love to meet them! (*≧ω≦*)

Daiki was a little taken aback by Ryouta’s enthusiasm, but the model was often like that when it came to texts and so forth. Plus, it _was_ basketball. Daiki knew his boyfriend still loved the sport even if he hadn’t pursued it after high school.

His phone pinged again, not a second later.

 _[From Pretty boy]:_ Don’t blame me if you lose!

 _[From Pretty boy]:_ (╯✧▽✧)╯

Daiki wanted to scoff at the blonde’s self-assured victory. Ryouta had yet to beat him in any of their one-on-ones and him being worn out from practice wasn’t going to be enough of an edge for his boyfriend to win.

 _[To Pretty boy]:_ as if

 _[From Pretty boy]:_ (＃`Д´)

 _[From Pretty boy]:_ So when should I come?

 _[To Pretty boy]:_ anytime

 _[To Pretty boy]:_ practice takes about 2h so just come whenever

Right now their practices were comparatively short and they were just easing into things. Their practice schedule would get busier soon, so it was the perfect time for Ryouta to visit. His coach and manager had already met Ryouta, and naturally been charmed by the model, so there wouldn’t be any opposition there.

 _[From Pretty boy]:_ Okay! See you soon Daikicchi!

 _[From Pretty boy]:_ (o^ ^o)/

 _[To Pretty boy]:_ ya later

 _[From Pretty boy]:_ And good luck at practice!

Flipping the screen off, he placed the phone into his locker and shut it.

“Was that him?”

“Yeah.”

“So?’

“Ryouta said he’ll come. Not sure when, but after practice I guess.” Even if it didn’t matter, knowing Ryouta, the blonde was going to worry over what to wear for the next couple of minutes. At least that was the case when they had held the press conference. Ryouta had been frantic, anxious about something that really didn’t matter. It wasn’t as if he was wearing a dress or something. Besides, practically _everything_ looked good on the model.

“Awesome! Can’t wait.”

“I’m gonna hit the court and shoot a few hoop before practice.” Daiki’s hands had been itching to dribble a ball for some time and there wasn’t much time before the rest of the team filtered in. “You guys coming?”

“In a bit. Need to change first.” Terrence replied, unzipping his duffle bag.

“I’m gonna make a phone call, but I’ll be out in a sec.”

“Ok.”

 

“Damn, How’d you even manage to hit the ball in from so far away and with that high of an arc?”

“Practice.” Ryouta smiled secretively. Only his former teammates back in Kaijo and Seiren knew of his copycat abilities. It had been a long time since he had used Midorima’s ability, but after being on the court and when playing with people who were as good, if not better than he had been, Ryouta had to put his best foot forward.

They had played a couple of different games, mostly three-on-three or four-on-four, and while Ryouta hadn’t won every game, they were some close games. Everyone had insisted that Daiki and him be on different teams, which only made winning that much more difficult as they knew one another’s respective strengths. While Daiki wouldn’t be able to block all shots, it had been much more difficult to with his boyfriend chasing him around the court each time he had the ball.

“I’ll bet.”

“Ever considered going pro? You could make it with your skills.” Jared, yet another of Daiki’s teammates and the small forward for the team added.

“I did, but there was an amazing modeling opportunity that came up so I took that. And here I am now.” Seeing how successful Daiki was at basketball made Ryouta wonder what would have happened if he had continued in the sport. He didn’t regret choosing to become a model, but it did make him wonder. He loved basketball and it had consumed a large portion of his earlier years, but it had never been his dream the same way it was Daiki’s dream.

“So whose better between you and Daiki?”

“I am.” The tanned male popped up from behind Ryouta and answered for the two of them.

“Daikicchi!”

“What? You’ve never won a one-on-one yet.” There was a not-so-innocent smirk on the power forward’s lips. Ryouta had the urge to kiss it away, but he wasn’t sure how comfortable Daiki and everyone around them would feel. They had made some well-intentioned jokes and accepted him so far, but he didn’t want to push the boundaries too far during his first meeting. So instead he rolled his eyes and frowned at his arrogant boyfriend.

“That’s because I haven’t been practicing.”

“Right…”

“Stop flirting, you two.” Someone commented. The statement could be taken in many different ways, but the humor behind if was well-intentioned and so was the laughter that followed.

“We’re not.” Daiki responded first, frowning at his teammate.

“That’s right.” Ryouta took the opportunity to chime in. “Daikicchi doesn’t know how to flirt!”

“Shut up, baka-Kise.” The tanned player replied gruffly, slinging an arm around Ryouta’s neck and ruffling his hair.

“Daikicchi!” He squawked, struggling to escape. “Stop that! Ahomine!” Ryouta managed to break free of his boyfriend’s grap, but the damage to his hair was already done. “Look what you’ve done now.”

“What? It’s not like it wasn’t already messy.”

“Hmph. Ahominecchi.” Ryouta shot his boyfriend a dirty glance and took a step away from the tanned male.

“So you guys wanna grab food or drinks after this? I’m starving.”  Ryouta wasn’t sure who asked the question, but he was thankful it had shifted everyone’s focus away from him and Daiki.

“Sorry, my wife’s waiting for me.” Dan replied, gesturing to his wife who was standing near the door. “Nice meeting you, Ryouta. Denise was absolutely thrilled.”

“Nice meeting you too. And it was no problem. She was really fun to talk to.” Ryouta chirped.

“I’ll see the rest of you guys next time.”

“Yeah, bye.”

“Sorry, I need to head out as well.” One of the team’s second-stringers waved. “My parents are in town and we made plans already.”

“No sweat. Have a good time. What about you guys, wanna grab something?” Terrence prompted again. Most of the team was onboard. One more declined, which left just Ryouta and Daiki who hadn’t answered yet.

“Daikicchi?” While he had spent the last half hour with the team, he wasn’t familiar enough with them to make the call. And as fun as it had been, they were Daiki’s teammates, not his.

“I’m good either way. You decide.”

“Umm, I’m a little tired, maybe next time?” He smiled apologetically at Daiki, not knowing what his boyfriend usually did. He didn’t want to disturb the peace and would usually have agreed to hanging out some more, but Ryouta really wanted some downtime. His trip to the stadium was relatively low-key, though there were two reporters staking the place out, but the security guards had been enough of a deterrent for him. Going out to a public place was likely going to throw more dust in the air, and Ryouta really didn’t want to face it again so soon.

“Nah, it’s cool.” The tanned male clapped a hand around his shoulders. “We’re gonna skip out.”

“Sorry.” Ryouta added sheepishly, dipping his head slightly.

“Don’t worry about it, man. You’re probably worn out from all the reporters. Those creepy bastards tried to interview me this morning too.” A few murmurs of agreement sounded. “Hope the whole thing blows over soon.

“Yeah, me too.”

“Catch you around sometime? You should totally come to more practices.”

“Okay, thank you. I’ll try!” Ryouta replied honestly. When he first agreed to come down and play a few rounds with Daiki’s team, he had no idea what to expect. The Knicks were professional players, and while Ryouta did play one-on-ones with Daiki, the conditions were completely different. There was a little trepidation playing against such an all-star team, and meeting his boyfriend’s colleagues and teammates, but it had turned out better than fine. Not only was he welcomed warmly, but they had treated him like one of their own. “It was fun playing with you guys.”

“You too. Catch ya later!”

A round of farewells were doled out and there were a couple of sweaty handshakes as the rest of the team filtered out.

“Your team was nice.” Ryouta hummed as they made their way to the Uber.

It was unfortunate the rest of the world didn’t view him and his relationship in the same way. Things could have gone very poorly, and they hadn’t. Ryouta could recall several instances in his work where such things such as an affair or coming out of the closet had nearly ruined one’s life. But knowing that some of the people closest to him and Daiki supported their relationship was a huge relief.

“Yeah, told you there was nothing to worry about, pretty boy.” There was a smug look on Daiki’s face. “So where do you wanna go?”

“Home.”


	17. Wishes for the future

**_“True love is like ghosts, which everybody talks about and few have seen.” -La Rochefoucauld_ **

 

“Hey Daikicchi?”

“Yeah?” The tanned male hummed, eyes fixed on the television as it aired the latest basketball game of the Los Angeles Lakers versus the Houston Rockets. Ryouta knew how important it was to know one’s opponent’s styles and skills as there was a chance his boyfriend would eventually face one of those teams. But what he wanted to talk about was better with Daiki’s undivided attention.

“I was thinking of maybe quitting.” That statement got a reaction from the basketball player, as Daiki turned to face him.

“You mean…” The tanned male’s brow furrowed in concentration. “Being a model?

“Yep.”

“Why? It’s not like anyone really cares anymore.”

It had been nearly two months since the press conference and the entire basketball world had gradually come to accept his relationship with one of the league’s best. The first couple of weeks had been tough. Ryouta had received a couple of death threats and at least one crazy fan had tried to attack him, but most of it had died down. The last time had been a week ago when he went to Daiki’s game and someone had yelled that ‘fags weren’t allowed in.’ Ryouta had no idea who it was and the person was eventually escorted away by security.

That did not mean it was smooth sailing though. As both of them were prominent public figures, their relationship was constantly under scrutiny. Any supposed inappropriate actions with another woman or man could spread gossip, even though they were blatantly untrue. Everyone was just waiting for the first misstep before pouncing. He had already lived that life once, dodging the press and avoiding scandals as best as possible; he didn’t want to go through it again.

“Yes, but as you know, there’s an age limit on the whole modeling thing.” Ryouta was still at or near his peak, but it was difficult to see himself doing it for that much longer. And there definitely was an upper limit. It wasn’t like jobs suddenly vanished, but there were less opportunities and the lack of regularity was easier when one was younger.

“As if.” Daiki snorted derisively. “You’ll always be a pretty boy.”

“Daikicchi! I’m being serious.”

“I know. Stop PMSing, baka-Kise.”

Knowing that replying to the comment would only lead nowhere, he ignored it and put it aside. “But the other thing is that well, the job.”

“What about it?”

The modeling world had similarly been shocked by the announcement of his relationship, but that hadn’t really stopped his jobs from coming in. Some doors had closed, while others had opened. Openly coming out and announcing his relationship with another man had resulted in many open-minded studios and companies which he never thought he had a chance at, seeking him out.

The reaction back at home had been much more subdued, but Ryouta didn’t foresee himself going back anytime soon. The agency hadn’t fired him, but they were definitely angry and pissed off, which only made it harder to see him continuing. In spite of everything, he certainly had a strong fan base in Japan, but it was still an upwards battle against the conservative culture. While gay couples existed, marriage and anything more serious was strongly frowned upon. The blonde certainly missed his friends and family, but Japan hadn’t really been _home_ for him the same way it was a decade ago. He had spent so much time abroad, mostly in Europe, that he didn’t really have strong roots anywhere. Daiki being in the USA with him was already enough.

“Besides, my schedule is never normal and it’s tiring.”

“You were the one who wanted to do that, dumbass.”

“I know, but sometimes I barely have the time to relax.” Just earlier this month he had been cooped up doing shoots for five days in a row down in Florida. Being on the beach had been great, but it wasn’t as interesting without Daiki there and because the shooting was nonstop. They wanted to take some sunrise and sunset shots, which required him to wake up at four in the morning and go to bed after midnight. And the only breaks he really got were for sleeping or food, and sometimes even those were scarce. “And that’s only for right now.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My contract.” His work-life wasn’t terrible now, at least compared to fashion week or the schedule he had back in Europe, but it was still stressful. The terms were highly favorable right now, but whether those terms would remain the same was yet to be seen.

“What about it?”

“It’s ending soon.” The agreement for him to be based in New York was only until the end of the year and there was only a couple of weeks left.

“Can’t you tell them you want to stay?”

“I did, but that’s not up to me.” Ryouta had no intention of leaving and there was a high chance the agency would allow him to stay on, but the end decision wasn’t his. Earlier in the year there were talks about going to Hong Kong or Paris, but everything had been put aside when he revealed his relationship. As much fun as it would be going to a new city and traveling, he had already done much of it. Every time he had to relocate, he had to make new friends and start all over again, and it was becoming tiresome. The circle of people he had here, one or two other models and photographers, Daiki’s team, and of course, his boyfriend, were people Ryouta didn’t want to leave.

“So what you want to do after you retire?”

“Being a pilot maybe?” It had always been his dream to fly an airplane, so he considered it more as a pursuit of his hobby more than work. And he certainly did not need to worry about saving for retirement. Money was not a problem, and Daiki’s contract with the NBA was no small number to scoff at either. The blonde had found it quite amusing, though, when one reporter accused him for being in it for the money, but shutting up immediately once realizing that his net worth was also in the six-figures.

“You know you have to go back to school for that.”

“Shut up, Daikicchi. It’s just a thought.” Ryouta whacked his boyfriend lightly on the chest. He had never had much time or energy to devote to studying with his modeling career and being on the basketball team. Nor was he particularly good at it. “It’s not like you have room to talk.”

“Hey, I’m not the one planning on going back to school. No way I’m picking up a book ever again.”

“That’s why you’re an Ahomine, Daikicchi.” He playfully teased.

“Shut up, baka-Kise.” There wasn’t much heat in the name-calling; it was just a thing they did.

“It’ll be nice not having to deal with all the reporters though.”

“Tell me about it.” Daiki groaned, throwing his head back against the sofa. “Can’t believe you put up with that shit for so long. Kinda makes me want to retire as well.”

“Daikicchi, don’t joke about that. Playing in the NBA was always your dream.” Although it wasn’t likely, Ryouta didn’t want Daiki to feel obliged to quit due to media pressure. The tanned male genuinely loved basketball and shone the most when he was the court.

“I know, but sometimes it feels like more time is spent dealing with those fucking reporters than actually playing basketball.”

“It’ll go away eventually.”

“Let’s hope so…”

“And don’t you ever joke about quitting.” His golden beseeched his boyfriend’s blue ones not to do something so stupid because of the stupid paparazzi. Ryouta knew of the less-than-pleasant past they shared when Daiki had stagnated because there was no one strong enough to play against. That was certainly not the case anymore. While Daiki was still one of the most highly regarded players, there were others in the league who were similarly talented. “And I love watching you play on the court. No one moves the same way as you do or nearly comes close to how you play.”

“Is that so…” A predatory gleam came in Daiki’s eyes.

“Yeah, let’s have a one on one, Daikicchi!” Ryouta beamed at his boyfriend. “We haven’t had one in two weeks!” Basketball season had picked up, so much of Daiki’s time was spent training or competing.

“Sure, but you’re just going to lose again, pretty boy.”

 

The two of them returned back to Daiki’s apartment two hours later, sweating and exhausted. Naturally, the power forward had won, but the win margin between them had shrunk considerably compared to several months prior. The after-practice games with the Knicks had helped kick Ryouta back into shape, and he had also picked up a couple of new techniques along the way, which had helped considerably.

“Ew, I feel all sticky and gross.” Ryouta groaned, collapsing on a chair and chugging the glass of water he had grabbed the minute before.

“Go take a shower then.”

“I would, but my place is too far away.”

“I meant take one here, dumbass.” Daiki rolled his eyes, popping the fridge open and grabbing a bottle of Gatorade.

“I know, but I don’t have an extra change of clothes, Daikicchi.” Ryouta frowned. The stuff he had brought needed to be washed and simply throwing them in the laundry would damage the material.

“You can borrow some of my stuff.”

“But what about underwear? I’m not wearing your boxers, Daikicchi!”

“Then go naked. It’s not anything I haven’t already seen.”

“Daikicchi!”

“Oh my fucking god, stop whining, pretty boy. It’s annoying.” The tanned male rolled his eyes at the outburst.

“I’m not whining. You were the one who told me go naked.”

“Only because you were complaining about not having any clothes to wear.”

“But it’s true.”

“Hell, you might as well just move in given how much time you spend here already…” Ryouta stared at his boyfriend, unbelieving the words that had just been uttered. He had thought of moving in one day, but never thought that Daiki would be the one to suggest it.

“...are you serious, Daikicchi?”

“I guess, yeah. It’s not like there’s no space and you barely use your apartment anyways.” That much was true. There was a spare room in Daiki’s apartment and Ryouta spent most of his time these days hanging out with the basketball player.

“You sure?”

“Sure, why not.”

“I’m gonna ask for a one-on-one every day then!” Ryouta beamed at the prospect of living together.

“Yeah right. The only one that can beat me is me, baka-Kise.”


	18. Epilogue: Their Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... I lied a couple of chapters ago. It's done!!! Think of it as an early holiday present!  
> As mentioned earlier, it was supposed to be more angsty, but the story just would jive that way... I'm really happy this is finally completed though. it's been one of those that has taken more effort to get going. 
> 
> Thank you to all my readers for supporting me on this writing journey. And look forward to hearing from you guys! <(_ _)>  
> Kudos, suggestions, and comments are always welcome! And you guys can reach me on tumblr/skype as well!

_**Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies. ~Aristotle** _

 

“Where are you bringing me Aominecchi?” Ryouta whined, reverting to his old name for Daiki, as he stumbled blindly behind his boyfriend.

He had no clue where they were or where they were going, having sat on a car ride for at least fifteen minutes before they had gotten off. The sound of cars was still audible, meaning that they hadn’t left the city yet, but the lack of voices or footsteps, aside from theirs, meant that they weren’t in a busy place. Ryouta knew they were outside from the warmth of the springtime sun and the faint smell of flowers around them. And they hadn’t gone through any doors that he knew of.

They were still in Japan somewhere; that was about all he knew, having come back to have a reunion with the rest of the Generation of Miracles. It was their first time returning to Japan after becoming boyfriends, and both of them were nervous. Daiki hid it behind his blasé, lazy attitude, but Ryouta also knew the man was nervous.

It turned out that there was no need to be worried. The rest of the Miracles had already known about it through the phone or Satsuki, and aside from a few smart remarks from Midorima and Satuski gushing and hugging them, there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Akashi, of course, looked at them as if he expected it to have happened sooner, but Ryouta was just too relieved they could hang out like before. Aomine’s hand and his had been linked under the table for a good portion of the time and he had blushed hard when Takao had pointed it out. Daiki had simply shrugged and told them to mind their own business, which had embarrassed him even further.

“Stand and wait right here Ryouta.” Firm hands steadied him and he stopped walking. “I’m going to take the blindfold off now, so keep your eyes closed okay?”

“Fine. This better not be some trick or something, Daikicchi.” He crossed his arms and pouted at the idea that he was going to have to wait a bit longer in the middle of god knows where.

“Just hang on, pretty boy.” A gentle pair of familiar lips pressed against his and he leaned into the kiss. “I’ll only be a minute.”

A cool breeze blew through, ruffling his hair. Ryouta wondered where his boyfriend had run off to. The man was never secretive, or rather he couldn’t be secretive. That was the complete opposite of what the basketball player stood for. Back in middle and high school, Daiki was known for being lazy, uncooperative, and blunt; the only thing that interested him was basketball.

It had been more than a year since they had gone public with their relationship, and not much had changed.

Daiki continued to play in the NBA and the power forward’s skills continued to make him a top contender for MVP. Unfortunately, the Knicks had lost by one point in the semi-finals; Daiki had been benched after a sprain suffered in the first half when one of the opposing players had flubbed and tripped him. It had taken the tanned male a week or so and a lot of cajoling on Ryouta’s part for Daiki to get over it.

Ryouta had tendered his resignation and refused to renew his contract when the time was up. It wasn’t a decision he had made lightly, but he didn’t regret it at all. Since leaving the modeling world behind, he had more time to attend his boyfriend’s games. It was also a little strange knowing that his boyfriend was more popular than he was; Ryouta was used to being the one in the spotlight. But it was a good sort of change.

They had been living together for several months now and each day was a little different. A little special in its own way.

Sometimes Ryouta would wake up and wonder if he wasn’t still dreaming. But the most telling sign was the scent on the sheets, the warm heavy arm thrown around him, and the sight of his boyfriend. He was still surprised that the male had come out and put everything on the line for their relationship. Basketball had always been everything for Daiki, and Ryouta had never imagined that changing. But it had.

There were times when his lover was still an ass, such as his inability to listen and _not_ cover his neck with love bites, though he secretly liked it. Not only was it a warning sign to everyone else, but it also reminded him that their relationship _was_ real. When they had first officially came out and said they were dating, Ryouta spent half his time being hounded by the press, asking whether it was true or not. The man in question, Daiki, of course, didn’t seem to give a shit what they thought, but he had never felt more relieved once the paparazzi stopped chasing after him and their relationship was taken out of the limelight. The blonde still had the occasional fan asking for either his or Daiki’s autograph, and he was happy to accommodate them, even if the latter wasn’t so forthcoming.

“What?”

“I already … you, Baka…” There were whispers around him, but he had difficulty isolated the source of the sound.

“You _want_ me to hit him on the head with a basketball?” The harsh whisper sounded suspiciously like Kagami’s. Although they had returned to Japan a few days ago, they had yet to meet up with anyone from Teiko. Satsuki had been the exception, but aside from that one brief visit, it felt like ages since he had seen the other Miracles and their friends.

“Shhhh… just do it!”

“Are you stupid, Ahomine?!”

“Shut up, Bakagami!”

Ryouta chuckled at the familiar sound of Daiki and Kagami arguing. He could only imagine what they were they talking about it. Some more scuffling sounded in the background and tried focusing in on the sounds to hear what was going on. Although he was curious at what was going on, it was unlike Daiki to be so secretive, and as such, it only made him more interested in knowing what the tanned male had planned. After what seemed to be an eternity waiting outside, he felt something knock lightly against his forehead.

“What was that fo–”

Ryouta immediately opened his eyes to glare at the person who had hit him on the head. But instead, the scene made him freeze. He vaguely recognized that they were right outside the gymnasium at Teiko. The same place where he had first bumped into Daiki. The rest of the Miracles were also there, some of them smiling and others looking bored. As happy as he was to see everyone around him, it wasn’t what held his attention.

Daiki was standing in front of him wearing his NBA jersey with an embarrassed flush on his face. There was a basketball under one arm and something glittering was held in the other.

A ring. From the size and the one next to it, it was a pair ring. Both bands were wrought in pure silver with one having a small blue stone, while the other held a matching yellow stone in the same place.

“Daikicchi… is this…?”

“Umm… they’re for you?”

“Both of them, Daikicchi?” Kise picked up the one with the blue stone, admiring it in the sunlight. The hue matched the gem on his earring. It fit his finger as well. “Isn’t the other one for you?”

“I don’t know… ask Satsuki.” The tanned male scowled from all the attention he was receiving.

“Dai-chan! How could you!” Daiki’s pink-haired childhood friend was incensed. Slapping he childhood friend on the arm, she turned to Ryouta with a small smile. “Poor Kii-chan. You should just ignore this idiot and ask to marry him yourself.”

“Satsuki!”

“What? I might have suggested the rings, but you were the one who picked them out.”

“Ugh, whatever. I don’t care anymore.” Daiki gestured towards Ryouta. “It’s on his finger, isn’t it?”

“Dai-chan!”

“It’s okay, Momoicchi.” Ryouta patted Satsuki on the shoulder lightly. “Daikicchi is just an Ahomine, so I’ll ask instead.”

Without pause, he stepped in front of the scowling tanned male, grabbing Daiki’s calloused hands with his own and offered the box to his boyfriend.

“So… marry me, Daikicchi?”

“Fine, whatever.” Daiki rolled his eyes, immediately trying to pull his hand away as soon as he had agreed, but Ryouta held onto tightly to it. “I just want to play some basketball.”

“Yeah, come on, I’ll beat you on the court, Ahomine.” Kagami chimed in.

“Daikicchi…” Ryouta used his best pleading voice on the man who scowled at the sound.

“Yes, now let go of my hand, Ryouta.” Under the shade offered by the canopy of trees, Ryouta slipped the ring on Daiki’s finger, smiling at his now-fiance.

“Okay. But still… why did you have to hit me on the head with a basketball, Daikicchi?” Ryouta whined, rubbing the spot. Even if it didn’t hurt anymore, that did not mean he liked being beaned on the head with a basketball. His head wasn’t as big or hard as Daiki’s. And just because he wasn’t a model didn’t mean he stopped caring about his appearance.

Instead, Tetsu replied, popping beside them with his typical stony demeanor and flat tone. “Daiki was freaking out and wanted to recreate the circumstances of how you met. Just to make sure you would fall for him again.”

“Hey Tetsu! Stop doing that!” Daiki shot a furious scowl at his former shadow.

“Is that true Daikicchi?” The blonde looked to the pro NBA player whose blue eyes escaped his gaze. The tanned male had never been one to panic.

“Shut up, baka-Kise.”

“So mean, Daikicchi…” He pouted at the tanned male who only scowled further.

Admiring the silver band on the fourth finger of his left hand, Ryouta wondered where Daiki had gotten the idea for the rings from. Fashion was never Daiki’s forte and it was unlike his boyfriend to go shopping. However, Satsuki’s sudden appearance and the hushed conversation between the childhood friends made sense now.

“Hey look!” Eyes swiveled to stare at what Takao was pointing at. “There’s a red string!”

Indeed there was. It seemed like a string had come loose from someone’s shirt and had blown right between them, attaching itself to both Ryouta and Daiki.

Looking at his new fiancé, Daiki snorted, wiping it away. “As if I need _that_ to tell me show me that Ryouta is the one.”

The remark caused the blonde to blush and the embarrassed couple to be mercilessly teased by those around them.

Akashi cast a knowing gaze somewhere up at the skies and somewhere in the distance in the land of the immortals, there was a loud screech or yell – _even I’m not too sure what to call the sound_ – as the curse was finally broken.

 

* * *

 

_No one watched the red string as it fluttered up into the blue skies, beyond the reach of mortal beings linking them for eternity..._

_Now I’m going to stop here with the story. You can probably figure out what happened. They had grown up as part of the Generation of Miracles after all. Finally, the two souls had found it._

_Love in a time of … well… basketball, I suppose._


End file.
